


A Drop of Magic

by the_master_of_escapism



Series: Rise of the Dragonlord [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Coma, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Drugs, F/M, Fate, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, London, Love, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Murder, New Year's Eve, Nightmares, Organized Crime, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Romance, Secrets, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Undercover, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 89,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_master_of_escapism/pseuds/the_master_of_escapism
Summary: Arthur never expected life to get so royally fucked up. People are being killed with magic, he can't get the memories of a past life as King of Camelot out of his head, and fate apparently won't give him a break.Merlin just wanted to protect what he cared about. He almost died, tore the veil between the living and the dead, and he can't figure out how to fix it all.Mordred lost it all and gained one thing in return. He has a new partner, a broken past, and he can't get the screams out of his head.A new and darker threat has come to London's streets and has pulled them into the centre of its web as they struggle with the events of the last year. Magic has a new face, a new name, and stands to either save or destroy them. Its fate lies their hands.





	1. The Mortal World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you enjoy reading this final part of the series :D There's a lot of psychological and emotional things (highs and lows) on the way, written to stay true to the characters as they've changed in the last two parts, and I'm looking forward to sharing them with you. Thank you for your comments/kudos, they're always appreciated and help me understand Merlin/Arthur/Mordred etc. from your perspectives which is really amazing.
> 
> As a side note, I have a handful of songs which match each chapter as I see them in my own head which I'll be adding at the end. Will sort out a clearer Spotify playlist ASAP but for now I hope it adds another dimension/atmosphere/layer of understanding to the story for you :)

'Welcome to this year's Total Excellence in Policing Awards!'

He let a bit too much champagne slip past his lips and ignored the obnoxiously cheery presenter. Leon's eyes were on him and Arthur tipped up the flute once more before he put it down. He scanned his eyes over the room. Gwen had made sure she had a seat next to Lance. They had decided on a wedding next February.

Percy and Leon sat on either side of him, with Gwaine wedged in between Leon and Elyan. They were all similar and strange. It had left him off-kilter. They still treated him like a King with their respect, their loyalty that went beyond just friendship. They'd die for each other.

'Now for the Outstanding Bravery of the Year award,' the presenter's voice boomed through the speakers. 'While this is said every year, this was a difficult decision. The recipient for this award took severe scrutiny and no small amount of deliberation.'

She paused for the obligatory laughter. It made his skin crawl. The pageantry echoed Camelot's grand hall and the awards evenings Uther had dragged him to when he was little in London. Age ten through to eighteen it had been his _duty_ to attend, his and Morgana's. He finished his champagne with one last swig and stared at the candle flame of the central candelabra.

'The award for Outstanding Bravery of the Year goes to Detective Constable Mordred Leir for his heroic actions in the Old Religion case this summer. Going far beyond rank, beyond job description, and bringing a formidable threat on London's streets to its knees, DC Leir has earned our respect.'

Closer to the stage a figure rose, weaved its way to the stairs and climbed. Sharp suit, dark hair and thick eyebrows. Mordred shook her hand, flashed a quick smile and took the small glass block with his free hand. Arthur watched, tongue pushed up against the back of his front teeth as they ground down together. Mordred left the stage and sank back into the sea of heads fluidly, poised and controlled.

'For Commitment to Professionalism Whilst Overcoming Adversity, we have several exceptional officers to award,' she continued and Arthur focused back on the candle flame, on the new taste of alcohol that clung to his tongue, on the smell of colognes and perfumes. Leon's eyes were on him again and when he met his friend's stare they locked, questioned him. He nodded and the moment passed. 'And finally, although he can't be here with us today, Detective Sergeant Merlin Emrys. In his stead I'd like to invite his partner DS Arthur Pendragon to accept the award on his behalf.'

 _Shit_. They all looked at him. He held his breath, pulled on his trained smile, and stood up.

  'As DCI Kilgharrah always phrased it, you were like two sides of the same coin. Even when friends turned against him, against you both, DS Emrys pursued justice and risked his life to stop a serial killer. Our thoughts are with him, and with you DS Pendragon, who stood by his side fearlessly in a true display of partnership and loyalty. A round of applause for DS Merlin Emrys!'

  He made his way to the stage, avoided chairs, handbags, the odd waiter who silently filled glasses, while the cacophony of claps encouraged him on. Ghostly faces watched him as he climbed the stage and the glass weight in his hand burned cold as the presenter put her hand on his shoulder and smiled with closed-lips. The clapping dragged out a few more seconds then it died and the corner of his smile twitched, faltered.

  When he got back to their table the smile was dead and his phone had buzzed twice in his blazer's inner pocket. Behind him she carried on with announcing 'winners' and he rested the glass down on his chair to check his phone. Two missed calls from Kilgharrah. His name flashed up on the screen with a third call and Arthur swiped to answer.

  ‘ _Arthur, we've got another one._ ’

  He perched on the edge of his seat and shared a look with Leon then Gwaine.

  ' _I'm afraid you'll have to save the partying for another night. Forensics are on their way to the crime scene in Camden right now and I've texted you the address. Take whoever you need._ '

  'I'm on my way,' he said, voice low, and hung up. The address sat in his messages, meaningless. Letters and numbers took him to the victims but they never captured what he found, what he felt.

  _Flat 7B_

_Bassemer Court_

_Rochester Road_

_Camden_

_London_

_NW1 9EJ_

 

  The others around the table looked at him. 

  'Leon, Gwaine, time to go. There's another one in Camden,' he whispered and left, holding the heavy 'trophy' by his side. Arthur pushed through the wooden double doors at the far end of the grand ballroom into the well-lit corridor.

  Leon jogged up beside him. 'You're okay?'

  He nodded. 'I'll be better once we solve this case.'

  'Let me see that,' Gwaine said and whisked the trophy up and out of his hand. They never lost stride as they headed outside, the cold night air thicker with an earlier rainfall. Arthur could see Gwaine eye the glass award, how he held it securely in both hands, as they headed to a small car park next to the InterContinental Park Lane Hotel.

  ' _Adversity_ ,' the Irishman said through a chuckle.

  'What's that?' Leon asked.

  ' _Overcoming Adversity_ , that's what they called it. That's what they call what happened to us all, to Merlin. Really brings it home, you know? How the privileged can judge things so lightly.'

  'What would you call it, then?'

  'I don't know,' he said. 'Maybe something along the lines of _being framed, publicly ruined, psychologically fucked with, and still having the strength to try and save people even when they all tried to prosecute him like a criminal._ '

  Leon smiled softly. 'Bit long.'

  'Merlin deserves a long-arse title, mate.'

  'He deserves more than an award or title,' Arthur interjected as they reached his BMW.

  'Have you visited him recently?' Leon asked.

  'No, not for the last month,' he lied and the memory of his last visit earlier that day flared up. His eyes had been closed, as usual, breaths long and faint, motionless. The blinds of the private room were open, facing out across London's skyline in the dying evening light, and it had cast streams of sunshine across the bed and the one side of Merlin's face.

It had taken two months of that, of talking to his unconscious body, before he'd snapped. He'd rushed into an arrest without back up. The suspect was a member of one of the borough gangs and had a pistol and a crowbar. They'd tried both on him and it all happened too fast for him to get out. If Leon hadn't realised what he'd disappeared to do and shown up ten minutes later?

  He'd stayed away from Merlin after that but staying away had made it worse. So he'd gone to see him.

  Arthur ducked into the driver's seat and pushed in his key, lit the ignition, closed his door, and waited for them to get in. It was cool and dry inside with shadows that pooled around them and the black leather. Arthur flicked the custom-made switch for the siren as the other two climbed in and pulled out from the car park, engine rumbling softly through the car's body. He told himself he didn't know why he'd been so reckless. A small part of him itched with the reason every day. To hurt, to feel something different and distracting, to maybe see Merlin wake up to save him again. 

  The siren started scratchily at first, then whined out from small speakers attached within in the front grate of the car where blue emergency lights flashed and blinked. Saturday night traffic was heavy but after twenty minutes of cutting through lanes and red traffic lights they made it to the block of flats. Another police response vehicle was parked outside and a PC led them up the stairwell to the right floor. They filled the oppressive anticipation with small, direct conversation, recalling the last victim they’d found and the notable details until they reached police tape stretched across the open doorway.

  'DS Pendragon,' the officer outside said with a nod. 'Hope you skipped dinner.'

  Gwaine scoffed. 'Oh, it's worse. We were at the awards. With an open bar.’

  The officer frowned. 'Uhm, maybe-'

  'No,' Arthur cut in. 'For christ's sake, two glasses of champagne will hardly affect my judgement.’

  ‘There was a glass of red too, mate,’ Gwaine added.

  Arthur stood up straighter. ’This is our case and the response team did the right thing in contacting DCI Kilgharrah. How many?'

  'Just the one,' she said and gestured inside. They pulled on the white suits, shoe covers, gloves and masks, then Arthur ducked under the tape and crossed into the living room. 

  His breath caught itself in his chest.

  'What—' Leon started as he stepped up next to him. His head buzzed numbly for a second as he took it all in. The flat was small, the living room had an open-plan kitchen and two doors on either side, a window that filled up half the wall opposite. It's curtains were half drawn and partly torn.

  The kitchen itself was a mess, plates and glasses broken on the floor and counters, cupboard doors hanging from their hinges. A large black scorch mark was seared into the far corner where the two walls met the ceiling, the TV screen was toppled, smashed, and papers, magazines, and a few books laid haphazardly over the room. The blood practically blended in, drawn across the walls, carpet, lampshades, as if someone had thrown it around out of paint cans. It had splattered along the curtains, the ripped sofa, everything. 

  'She's through there,' one of the forensics officers said as they snapped another picture of the kitchen and pointed to the right door closest to them. Arthur kept to the stepping plates and headed into the bathroom.

  Black mould had sunk in between a few of the white tiles and the shower curtain was tucked to the side to reveal the body. A thin arm hung over the edge of the tub. Arthur approached her, noticed that Leon lingered at the doorway, and that Gwaine had disappeared entirely. He knelt down and gently turned her arm, mentally noted the injection points that bruised her skin an ugly mixture of blue, yellow and brown along her forearm, then moved towards her face. Her pupil's were blown as her eyes stared out blankly with a dull golden colour.

    The familiarity of the irises made his chest constrict as the image of Merlin's eyes shining a brighter hue cut through his concentration. Swallowing the memory his eyes moved down to her body, grey t-shirt dark and soaked through as it rested in the still water. Its surface reached just under her breasts and had turned a strange pink colour. 

    The lower half of her right arm was gone. The jagged stub just below her elbow was obscured lightly by the still water. Bile rose and burned in the back of his throat. He swallowed again and stood up. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, dry like her face. She hadn't drowned. The blood in the living room, pink water and missing limb suggested blood loss was a major factor, if not the direct cause of death. He couldn’t be certain with these cases. Normal rules didn’t seem to apply. He left the bathroom to see Gwaine staring at the window.

    'Arthur, you should see this,' he said through the mask and he headed over. Gwaine held the curtain back out of view to show a round bloody stump sticking out from the glass by an inch. The forearm stretched through the glass out the other side of the window where her hand hung limp and pale. She'd been reaching through the glass.

    'This isn't possible,' Leon said behind them both.

  Gwaine leaned his face in towards the window, dark eyebrows crushed together as he studied the fixed forearm. 'It's not _im_ possible. Evidence speaks for itself.' 

    'But how?'

    'Magic,' Gwaine said and Arthur shot him a look. 'Just one suggestion.'

    'Why haven't we seen anything like this before?'

    'I think we have, just never this obvious. Remember that waiter at Whitehall? He died from what appeared to be a heart attack after his shift ended, but he had the same injection marks and was in perfect health. The injections have been our only connecting factor so far. That and the golden irises. This just means there's a lot more going on.'

    'Kilgharrah, he said something about Nimueh giving magic back to the world didn't he?' Leon asked quietly and looked at Arthur.

    'We stopped her,' he said coldly. 'Morgana stopped her.'

    Gwaine stepped back and picked up an evidence bag on the coffee table. 'Maybe she didn't.'

    Arthur breathed deeply, ignored the way his heart rate picked up, and dragged his eyes from the girl's arm to the wallet Gwaine was investigating.

    He pushed out a driver's licence. 'Her name is Amanda Matthews. She's twenty-two years old.'

    'Was,' Arthur corrected. Gwaine looked up at him then back down as he carried on searching through the slots, pushed up several credit cards, then paused.

    'Where have we seen this before?'

    He carefully pulled out a small card and held it by the corner between thumb and index finger to show Arthur.

    'Of course they have a bloody business card,' Arthur muttered and took it, trapping its edges with his fingers. A spiral filled the centre of the card, a simple design in black ink repeated on both sides. Six curved lines from where it spread out from the centre focal point. His brow throbbed and he gave it back. 'Leon, go talk to the neighbours, even the ones Uniforms have already canvassed. Gwaine, I want you to find the building's security and pull any surveillance. I'm going to talk to Mordred.'

    'Sure you want to talk to him alone?' he asked.

    'He's the last officer to work the Old Religion case, the last person who has magic that we know of, and he's more irritating than dangerous. I'll be fine. Report in at the Yard at ten. Call if anything happens, okay?'

    Gwaine nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

    Arthur left and stripped off the protective clothing in seconds before he rang Gwen and headed down the eerily quiet staircase.

    ‘ _Arthur?_ '

    'Put Mordred on the phone,' he said and winced at the demanding tone in his voice. 'Please. It's an emergency.'

    The announcements were over now judging by the background music and chatter he heard. ‘ _Okay. Are you alright?'_

    'I'm fine, I just need to talk to him.'

    He heard muffled conversation on the other end of the line before Mordred's voice came through with a curious note. ' _Hello?_ '

    Arthur kept his breaths measured and explained quickly, 'We've got a business card with Old Religion's symbol on it at a crime scene. Victim appears to have been killed with magic, or at least magic was involved in the moments preceding her death. Her eyes are gold as well. Going to help?'

    ' _Where's the crime scene?_ '

    'Camden. I'll send you the exact address. Once you've taken a look find me at Scotland Yard. I don't care if it's not procedure or if you're with Intelligence. We clear?'

    ' _Crystal._ '

    'Put Gwen back on.'

  A beat passed by then Gwen's voice floated over the connection again. ‘ _Arthur? What's going on?_ ’

    ‘I’m going to send you an address. Make sure Mordred notes it down. I promise I'll explain later,’ he said.

    ' _You better_ ,' she warned and Arthur smiled before he hung up and climbed back into his car. When the door slammed shut and darkness fell over him his heartbeat pulsed in his ears and fingertips. Her stillness, the cold touch of her skin, of Merlin's skin, soaked into his thoughts. The pressure of his dying body on that street pushed against his chest again, the strange panic that drained everything out of the air came back and heat pricked up behind his eyes.

    His hands slammed into the steering wheel, once, twice, three times until he pushed his forehead down against it, chest heaving and palms stinging. His breaths were the only sound, ragged and strained. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth, and kept the cry contained to a broken, choking growl in his throat. It hurt but he forced it out from his chest until the pressure was too much and he gasped in a lungful of air.

    Arthur leaned back into the leather and turned his head to the empty passenger seat. Merlin had sat there the first day they met a year before. He could remember how heavily it rained that day, how clumsy and thoughtful the new DC had been. Neither of them had any idea.

    'Why aren't you here? Why won't you come back?'

    Silence.

    Arthur breathed heavily, wiped his cheeks and started the engine. He was talking to thin air now. Bloody fantastic. He had to concentrate on the case. The traffic was heavy, kept him at a crawling pace for most of the journey back to Westminster, but he eventually made it with his concentration back. With Merlin tucked away safely in his head.

   

    Their floor of operations was warm and reasonably quiet when he stepped out of the lift, and Kilgharrah's office door stood open. Arthur made it there in seconds and saw the DCI behind his desk with his head over papers.

    He marched up to the front of his desk. ‘You said we'd stopped it. When Mordred told us what happened on the mountain you said Nimueh's enchantment couldn't work but this is the _fifth_ case in the last three weeks with magic involved.'

    'How do you know magic was involved in the previous four?'

    'How do I-' Arthur stopped with a laugh of disbelief. 'I'm not an idiot, Kilgharrah. I knew something was going on when you started consulting different teams and their cases were left unsolved, apparently unnoticed by anyone else in the Met, press or the public. You've been steering officers away from crimes and there's no other reason I can think of.'

    'You've been spying on me,' the man noted with narrowed eyes.

    'I don't trust you.'

    'You've become paranoid since Aredian's men attacked you. You tracked them down, Arthur. Let it go.'

    'Let it go?'

    'It was three months ago. You need to trust me again. You need to trust your team.'

    'That isn't the point. Morgana _died_ to stop it from happening. You said the enchantment couldn't have gone through but it has. How?'

    'If Morgana's powers were greater than I anticipated, her death may have been enough to fulfil the spell in Mordred's place. Especially when coupled with whatever Aredian did to Merlin, if the two were in any way connected.'

    'How do we stop it?'

    'I don't know.'

    'You don't know?' he hissed, the anger slipping out of his control but he reeled it back and shook his head. 'You don't know. Well, since you can't help Mordred has to. Merlin's been unconscious since the attack or have you forgotten? The surgery to try and save his life? The news that he’d entered a bloody coma? Another thing you can't explain. What's the point of you, Kilgharrah? Riddles, not knowing, and way too many lies. What are the chances we'd all end up here, at the same time, in the same murder team?'

    'Everything's bound together, Arthur. Fate doesn't play games.'

    'More riddles. That's bullshit and you know it.'

    'Watch yourself, Pendragon. I am still your superior and with your recent behaviour it is well within my rights to suspend you.'

    'Suspend me? Why not fully commit and fire me. Get it over with. Fate and I are long overdue a divorce.'

    'Say it!' someone said behind him. Arthur turned around at the outburst. Gwaine walked down the open isle on the right, a smile smacked across his face. 'Go on.'

    'You're the best detective I've ever known,' Leon drawled out with a flat monotone and shot Arthur a pleading look when he spotted him through the office doorway. 

    'Glad you finally admitted it, Leon,' Gwaine said before waving at Arthur. 'Hey, got the footage.'

    He glanced back at Kilgharrah.

    'I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that,' the DCI told him quietly.

    Arthur left the room to meet them. 'Normally there's more bureaucracy involved.'

    Gwaine's smile grew and he held up a camera. 'Not when there's a bored wannabe photographer who happened to be capturing city aesthetic or whatever outside the block when the crime took place.'

    'Kid was taking pictures of us when we came out. Once Gwaine stopped posing he let us borrow it with strict instructions to _handle it with care_ ,' Leon added and took the camera from Gwaine's grasp to set up the USB connection and download the files. All three of them crowded around the desktop, Kilgharrah joining them just as Leon pulled up the first image. 

    They spent five minutes of clicking through them before Arthur saw it.

    'There,' he said and pointed. 'Eyes.'

    The image was high quality, focused on shadows versus light, but the gold shone out from the boy's face in the dying afternoon light. He was staring ahead, apparently unaware of his observer.

    'Definitely magic,' Gwaine whispered. 'Why do I have that weird feeling in my chest?'

    'Heartburn?' Leon asked and Gwaine slapped his arm.

    'The feeling is the same one I get when something's worse than I actually think it is.'

    'Must get it a lot, huh?'

    'A few glasses of bubbly and you lose all your manners, Leon.'

    'Guys,' Arthur cut in. 'There's a good chance Nimueh's doomsday spell wasn't stopped. I've heard of a few cases involving magic like this in the last month. Kilgharrah has suspicions too.'

    Gwaine stared at him.

    'Morgana's death must have triggered it,' Arthur added.

    'Shit, I'm so sorry mate,' he said, hand on his shoulder.

    'It doesn't matter. We need to find whoever killed the girl, whoever is in this picture, and make sure they can't hurt anyone else.'

    'Arthur,' Leon said in front of him.

    'Yes, Leon?'

    'This could easily turn into a witch hunt. A literal witch hunt.' 

    'We've got to reverse her enchantment then, don't we?'

    'You know how to?'

    'No idea,' Arthur said with a wry smile. He found himself smiling about the impossible, painful things a lot lately. As if grinning through them would make it okay, or at least make the rest of them feel better.

    'No. No way,' Gwaine said darkly and stood back. Arthur looked up at him, then saw Mordred still dressed in his suit walk up.

    'Out of options, so play nice,' he said into Gwaine's ear and straightened up to face Mordred. 'So?'

    'Warlock did it. Young, there was a fight.'

    'That's all you got?' Gwaine scoffed. Arthur elbowed him.

    'I'm not omnipotent and my strength is halved with Merlin's condition.'

    'My sympathies,' Arthur said with narrowed eyes. 

    Mordred's lips pulled up into a smile. 'My time is limited so if you want my help on this you should work quickly.'

    'Got somewhere better to be?'

    'Oh you know, just some broomsticks to test out and then there's that cauldron I left on the fire, if that boils over London's . . . Well, it all goes _boom_ ,' he said and Arthur made sure he kept his own temper in check. 'Seriously, I've got an operation running right now and I have to get back on duty Monday. Won't have much spare time after that.'

    'We have a picture for now. It told us as much as you did,' Leon told him and motioned to the screen. Mordred fixed his stare onto it and moved forward. Arthur made sure he and Gwaine got out of the way. When Mordred leaned forward his tie tipped down and brushed the desk, curly hair shifting slightly. He moved a hand towards it and rested his fingertips against the screen.

    Small inky grains plucked themselves out of the plastic and coiled around Mordred's fingers like a liquid, rolling in thin streams up his hand and disappearing under his cuff. Arthur watched silently as his clear eyes filled with that familiar fire. Mordred's mouth became slack, lips parted and brows furrowed. He jerked back, the grains falling down and puffing out into a mist when they made contact with the keyboard, desk, Leon's arm.

    'What is it?'

    'That magic, it's not like ours, mine and Merlin's. Not Morgana's either.'

    'I thought as much,' Kilgharrah said with a sigh.

    Arthur frowned. ‘Why isn't it?’ 

    'They're not reincarnations. Their magic is sourced from the modern world. I can feel it even in this image. This kind of power isn't possible, not even with what Nimueh planned to do. It's something else.'

    'Reincarnations? Like Buddhism?' Leon asked. 

    Mordred looked at Arthur. 'You haven't-'

    'Later, Leon. Does knowing that help us?'

    'I can't track him. I don't have enough power,' he mumbled and stepped away from them. 'If you need my help you should call. I've got to go.'

    'Helpful as ever,' Gwaine said. Mordred was half way to the lifts already. ’There's not much else we can do until the forensics come in.'

    Vibrations shot across his thigh and Arthur dug out his buzzing phone.

    'What is it?'

    'It's Percy,' he said, staring at the screen. 'He's set up a blind date for me.'

    'He did _what_? Want me to bite off his head?'

    Arthur shook his head. 'No, it's not like I have to go. Anyway, Merlin and I broke things off before the attack.'

    'Arthur, maybe you should give it some time? Wait until Merlin wakes up?'

    'What do you think I've been doing, Gwaine? What if he doesn't wake up?’ he snapped. The thoughts sent a cold shudder through him and he swallowed the painful lump. 'I'm going to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we should get everyone in and brief them.'

    He had climbed back into his car the next conscious second he was aware of. _What if he doesn't wake up?_ Arthur's stomach growled into the quiet and he sighed. He'd forgotten to eat again. Sixteen minutes later and he climbed back out of the car in the hospital car park. It was well beyond visiting hours but he walked up to the stretch leading up to the main entrance anyway. Half of St Thomas' windows glowed with warm light and people milled around, but most noise came from the main road, most of the light from Westminster across the river. The hospital grounds were a pocket of calm surrounded by the city.

    Arthur walked over to the concrete wall that faced out towards the river and Parliament. It had tall leafless trees which stretched up high and hung over him with thin spindly branches. He found the markings he'd discovered there the first week Merlin had been admitted, the little messages left scratched into the wall's top. They were obscured by the dark but he knew them well enough: M & R in a heart with 12.11.15 written along the side, RP + ST in another smaller heart, Dean M. 23.08.16, AJ ♡ CH Forever.

    He couldn't know for certain what they meant. If people wrote them down here together, just for fun, or for people they'd lost. To mark the dates they were there, or to mark that they'd be together in those hearts 'forever' even though they couldn't be together in any other way. He had no idea how he'd scratch himself into the wall, only that he'd make sure Merlin's initials were cut in next to his.

     

* * *

 

'Arthur?' he called out.

The form ahead stared at him, right through him, with wide blue eyes. Merlin studied it, the hair, its deep frown, open mouth, broad shoulders, defensive position. It looked like him. Seconds passed before he inhaled, stepped forward, and the body was thrown backwards. Fire licked up Arthur's legs, bright sparks sprayed out from a burning impact in his chest, glass shattered somewhere and the form tore apart into shreds of cloth and ash.

A breeze plucked up the remains in front of him and carried them into the sky. Merlin's stomach twisted and he pressed his lips together. Cold air brushed against him, his hands tingling and numb, breath visibly grey before it dispersed. He turned back, saw the barren street stretch too far behind him, and noticed the houses themselves reach up higher into the overcast sky.

He marched on, heartbeat slowing down from the encounter, and listened to the low howl of the winds as the windows around him creaked and cracked while brick compacted into dust. It all groaned in closer. Eventually the street became wild, the houses turned into scorched walls that towered over sixty feet above him, the cool slate sky distilled into a dark, thick fog.

Back in the Labyrinth. He'd never left it. The last time he'd been here he'd almost drowned. The time before that he'd been captured by vines. It was changing, stony, and made the Labyrinth of Gedref look like a theme park attraction in comparison. At least Arthur had actually been with him then and he'd known where he really was with map references.

Snow flakes drifted down, soaked into his skin, and his next step crunched. A thin sheet of ice covered the ground, fractals growing and cutting around him as it spread. The quiet hum and cracking broke under a scream and Merlin looked up to see the dragon beat its leathery wings overhead. His body was tired and ached from the constant cold, the onslaught of dangers, but when the sound of rushing water hit his ears he swallowed it all down and ran. Each step splashed, dragged, and the black water continued to swell around him, quickly filling the narrow space between the walls. He threw his body to the right down a new stretch, then left, then right again, and the rushing water around his thighs began to crackle.

Heat slammed into him. He gasped and stepped backwards into an unfamiliar room. Fire roared up and lashed out at the paint on the walls, the curtains. Straight ahead a dark shape yelled something he couldn't understand. Its eyes burned. Merlin backed away and walked into something. He looked down and saw another Arthur, face contorted with panic. The dark faceless shape shouted out something again, and the fire grew, one of its hands lighting up with a flickering orange. It hurled the distorted colour out before it moved next to Arthur and made him cry out. Arthur wasn't doing anything to stop it. He was terrified. The contorted colour surrounding them unrolled itself, spiked and churning with shadows inside. Merlin rushed at the shadowy form next to Arthur, eyes squeezed shut against the numbing pain of the fires, and kept running until they collided and he tackled it to the ground.

It all slipped out beneath him and he fell, the familiar cold charging around him. He recognised the waves below, the low light of the overcast sky and setting sun. He'd done it once before. He could do it again. The white foam spilled up against the cliff face, dark water thrashed up and down, and Merlin stopped trying to breathe through the rush.

_Don't close your eyes._

He jerked awake on the muddy ground. The looming shadow of trees and branches pressed in around him. No bird song. Not even a trace of wind. 

'Emrys.'

He twisted his neck around to see the woman standing behind him. Her clothes hung loose, faded and dull like the dark hair which framed her face. It couldn't be real. It wasn't her. Merlin clambered up to his feet, shaking, his body drenched from the ocean waters he was about to hit. 

'Mum?'

'Arthur Pendragon,' she said. Merlin squinted at her, when the familiar softness in her voice expanded and rolled darkly through the bark and dirt. 'That is the reason I have been sent to you. We heard your calls.'

He watched her carefully. 'You died. Back in Camelot and again in this life. You died when I was eight. I remember the day my aunt came and told me.'

'Hunith did die but that's not why I'm here.'

His glare hardened. 'Why do you look like her? Sound like her? What are you?'

'A denizen of the world you've been walking through. I am here to give you what you want.'

'And what do you think I want?'

'Life. You haven't passed through the Veil yet. You're stuck, just as you were the last time you were here. Once your body fails you, your soul will remain here until a time when you are-'

‘Reincarnated?’

'Yes,' she nodded. Her flesh seemed human and physical enough but there was a transparency to her that glinted in and out of focus every few seconds that said otherwise. 'By remaining here, however, Arthur Pendragon remains alone.'

'He's not alone.'

'He may as well be without you, Dragonlord. You just saved his life, quite impossibly, but without a physical anchor in that world you won't be able to do the same again. That anchor is dying and we heard your calls.'

His body was dying. The attacks in the Labyrinth, the violence and exhaustion, had all increased. It made sense.

Merlin kept his face clear of any emotion. 'Since I'm not actually dead, what exactly will you do to give me life?'

'Not dead _yet_.'

'Not actually dead yet,' he corrected sourly.

The denizen, Hunith, whatever it was, smiled grimly. 'I will send your soul, your mind, back into your body. You will come out of your dying state naturally, safely, and have the rest of your years to live out as the gods intended. You can protect Arthur Pendragon just as you did before.'

'What do you get out of it?'

'Your return to the mortal world will give us an escape as well. We no longer have anchors as you do and leaving this place of limbo, void, whatever you choose to call it,' it paused with thought and something cruel flashed through its expression. 'Leaving it hasn't been an option. Your presence changes that. The power of a Dragonlord is enough to free us.'

'Who's we?'

'I'm sure you've noticed the others. Faces, voices, sounds in your Labyrinth, in the hollow streets,' she said. 'We've been trapped, not dead and not alive, some for thousands of years. Time is warped here, Emrys, and this place ruins our minds. I'm sure you can remember.'

Remember? He'd felt it, that he'd been in some places before but from a place of life, not _limbo_. If time was warped though maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he just thought he had because he’d been there so many times before, the forest, the cliff, the Labyrinth. London. Everywhere. He pushed away the sickness that washed through his body and asked, 'Where would you escape to?'

'Death. Our release to the Beyond. Do you agree to the exchange? Your return to life for our release?'

'I don't know.'

'We have suffered as you have. Let us leave and we can lead you back to your body.'

The silence was infuriating. It wasn't natural but then none of this was. He was stuck in his own head, in this place between life and 'Beyond' and with what had happened so far any denizens here were far from trustworthy. He pinched and stretched out his options as it watched him, unblinking. Arthur needed him whether he wanted him or not. He couldn't stay here. The idea of waiting for any amount of time made his heart seize.

'Deal,' Merlin said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for The Mortal World:
> 
> -ZVVL by CHVRCHES  
> -No One’s Here To Sleep by Naughty Boy, Bastille  
> -Is There Somewhere by Halsey  
> -Kerosene Dreams by X Ambassadors  
> -The Beast by Johann Johansson  
> -Find you by Ruelle


	2. In the Dark

    Mordred pulled the t-shirt off over his head and threw it into the locker. The response gear wasn't comfortable. It was worse under the kevlar body armour he'd have to stick on in a few minutes but he'd adjusted to the set up.

    'Cool tat.'

    'What?' He turned to the voice and saw Will, already dressed, stood by the door with eyes trained on his chest. The exposure made his skin tingle. 'Oh. Thanks.'

    'What does it mean?' he asked and stepped in, door clicking shut behind him. Will's disguise was good as always. Mordred had noticed how his whole manner changed with the clothes, the cockier movement in his shoulders, his legs standing wider apart, northern accent easily believable. It was dark, tough, and blended in perfectly with the illegal firearm trading he'd managed to lie his way into. They'd done what normally took a year in about two months and it could all blow up in their faces if they didn't get it perfectly right in three hour's time.

    'Nothing,' Mordred said, grabbed the shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He ducked his head down and through the neckline quickly. 

    'Come on, man,' Will scoffed and moved to lean against the closed row of lockers next to him. 'Don't give me that closed-off mystery shit.'

    He smoothed the shirt down, ruffled his hair back into place, and closed the locker's door. 'It means you can't escape your past.'

    Will lifted one eyebrow. 'Dark times?'

    Mordred grabbed his bag from the changing room's bench and grinned at his partner. 'Everybody has them.'

    'I'm a light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel kind of guy myself,' he said and started back to the door. 'You looked swanky last night by the way.'

    'You were there?'

    Will opened the door for him. 'God no, but Freya was and she bombarded me with a live documentary of the event. If she weren't already in police surveillance I'd suggest she go into photography.'

    'Freya?'

    'Jealous?' he asked as Mordred passed into the quiet hallway. The building's changing room, showers, and whatever else were kept in the first level of the basement. Their path back up to the van was well lit and cold.

    'Of what?'

    'Totally believe your act,' Will assured him with a wink. 'Anyway, we've got to figure out a game plan for Kestrel's big moment. My arse is on the line and it's your job to take good care of it.'

    'I thought it was your life.'

    'One can't exist without the other, Leir.'

    He side-eyed Will as they climbed the stairs. 'We have the game plan already, you know that.'

    'Could always spitball a few more alternatives in case, but sure. All we've got to do is sit tight and look pretty then?' he said. They reached the ground floor and Mordred headed to the side-street exit quietly. Arthur's case had kept him up too late over the weekend. That magic had left a stale taste in his mouth. 'You all right?'

    'Yeah, just a bit distracted.'

    They stepped out into the air still wet with that morning’s mist and stopped. 'New lad in your life?'

    'No.'

    Will watched him thoughtfully. 'Good, it'd ruin our dynamic.'  

    They shared a final look. This was the part where Mordred climbed into the van and they switched to comms. The part where they couldn't afford to screw anything up. 'If things go south, Leir, I don't want you doing anything that could get us both killed.'

    Mordred's stomach twisted. 'They won't go south, Will.'

    'I know that, just checking you're not having second thoughts. You're doing that whole distanced thing again.'

    'I'm just planning how to best take care of your arse. Thought that was obvious. It's my job after all.'

    Will flashed a grin. He was down the street and had mixed in with the passing crowds seconds later. Mordred watched his breath on the November air before he stepped up into the nondescript dark van. Three other Intelligence officers had set up surveillance equipment and the armed response team were already driving to Hackney. He slammed the doors shut and took his seat.

 

_Impressive selection._

    Will's voice came through clearly and Mordred wished he could see what was going on in the building. He'd heard the steps, knew they'd gone down under the main shop floor of the Mediterranean groceries store, but he couldn't be sure. Magic was a struggle to use ever since Merlin had been attacked. He'd never forget how painful that moment had been, how he'd collapsed in the middle of the street beside Will. Now it was dampened and it stung to bring that power back to his hand.

_If you think that's good you should see what I can do with another week's time._

    That was her: the boss. The one they'd been after from the beginning, Kestrel's end game from long before he ever joined the party.

_Oh?_

_This business is generally don't ask don't tell, but why would a handsome young man like yourself need this kind of arsenal?_

_Offence is the best defence._

    Mordred smiled.

_I couldn't agree more._

    His smile disappeared. There was something beneath her words, something off. Mordred strained backwards to peer over the back of the driver's seat through the window. Two people with cloths pulled up to cover their mouths and noses with hoods up entered the store.

_You've had a pat down, Adam?_

_If you want to cop a feel yourself you don't need to ask. I'm all yours._

_Wonderful._

    Adrenaline sharpened his movements as he leaned back and spoke through the mic, 'Get out now. They know.'

    They had a plan. He had to say the word 'Waltz' to confirm he'd heard the warning.

    'Leir, there are more,' Jess told him and nodded out of the window from her position in the passenger seat, magazine in her lap. Three more went inside.

    He ran a hand through his hair. 'They suspect him. Someone must have tipped them off.'

    'Do we go in?'

    Mordred secured the vest around his chest. 'We still don't know who she is. We'll give him a bit longer.'

_Find what you were looking for?_

_Not quite._

_Sorry to disappoint. Personally, I find you uncover more about a person when you waltz than you do when you man handle them in a basement._

    Mordred relaxed a little but they were still in trouble. The unspent adrenaline was making his muscles ache.

_I'll remember that you like to dance, Adam. A good understanding of rhythm is essential to any business deal._

_What do I call you, then? You know my name._

_Kat._

_Is that short for something?_

_Katja._

_Russian?_

_Slovenian._

_I’d never have guessed. Wait. What are you doing? Wait, stop!_

    Mordred threw the headphones off and pressed down on the radio attached to his vest.

    'Go. Cover's blown.'

    He jumped out the back of the van to see the response team had already cordoned off the street. The other CO19 officers put their MP5 semi-automatics up and Mordred notched his own securely in place, buttstock pressed against his right shoulder and hand wrapped around the grip. He moved to where they'd positioned themselves around the sides of the main doorway and the lead SFO counted down with his gloved hand. _Three. Two. One._

    Gunshots, flashes, and shouting had them ducking out the way instantly. Ahead of him the CO19 officers fired warning shots above the stairwell and drove them back. Clouds of dust from concrete and plaster floated into the stairwell and obscured the lower level. Mordred quickly stepped down behind them, gun up, heart racing and eyes searching for Will once they’d passed the dust. They'd blown out the bulb and torches provided poor if sufficient lighting in the basement.

    The body on the ground in the middle of the room made his heart stutter. 'Kat' held a pistol out aimed at Will's head.

    Mordred moved out in front of the other officers. 'Don't you dare.' 

    He used his gun to slam into her arm, forced the butt against her nose with a _crack_ , and hit the ground when the shooting started up again. Without the protective ear muffs his eardrums burst in seconds.

    He kept low and shouted to the others, 'Back! Go back!'

    His authority meant shit all at that point though. This wasn’t his job. This was down to CO19 now. They’d fucked it up. It was ruined. They had to get out. Mordred hadn't even taken in the room, the bodies surrounding him, when someone fired a shot next to his head and hands snatched at his body. His right ear rang, deafened and hot, and he swung his elbow back. It hit something and he stamped his foot down on a boot, but it wasn't hard or fast enough. The firing hadn't stopped, they hadn't gone back, Will was down, and then Mordred saw the barrel aimed between his eyes in the shadows. Instinct, magic, surged up in his chest and it pulsed down the inside of his arms, hot and oozing strength.

    The screams stole his breath away.

    Shots went off in his skull with a sudden painful blistering and then light cracked red through his sight. He crumpled. It kept going, long and undulating, and he curled in on himself, hands around his breaking head. Light turned into blindness and then into a wave of burning sparks that coursed through his nerves, frayed them, snapped them one by one.

    'Hey.'

    The gentle shaking met with Will's voice and Mordred forced his eyes open. Will helped him back to his feet. They were alone in the basement.

    'What happened to you? Mordred?'

    'I need to sit down,' he said and started back up the stairs. Half of Will's face was smattered with dirt and he clutched his left arm. One subtle trickle of blood made its way through and dripped onto the ground. 'You're bleeding.'

    'There's an ambulance on the street,' he told him softly. 'I'm going there now. You should come with.’

    Mordred nodded. 'Yeah.'

    Outside they were making arrests, reporters had begun to arrive, and sure enough there was an ambulance providing treatment to an officer. Serious injuries must have been taken to hospital already.

    'How long was I out?' he asked Will as they left the store.

    'A few minutes.'

    Mordred had lost his ear muffs and his gun, his ears ringing painfully. Their van was still parked across the road. 'I'll be there in a second.'

    His head spun when he climbed inside and quickly sat down on the chair. Mordred waited like that, calming his breath. He waited for the dizziness to go away, for the sick feeling to melt. He grabbed his phone from the steel table and got out. Will's arm was being bandaged at the back of the ambulance. As Mordred made his way over his chest started to ache and wooziness ghosted over the back of his head with a cold touch, but he shook it off.

    'You look like shit,' Will said when he came into ear shot.

    'What the hell happened?'

    'I should be asking you that. What happened to you in there? You weren't having a seizure but you didn’t respond for a good six minutes. CO19 had to get those bastards arrested and I have no idea how to deal with whatever happened to you. Is it PTSD from the shit that happened in summer?'

    'I don't know. Drop it, okay? It was probably nothing. Tell me what happened after I was out.'

    'You know what, Dred.'

    'Don't call me that.'

    'Sounds more badass than Leir,' he quipped with a smile that blew out with a sigh and winced when the paramedic fixed the bandage with a safety pin. 'It was someone in Trident I expect. Not the first time we've had a traitor.'

    'The dealer, Katja?'

    'Gone.'

    'You've got a good idea of what she looks like?'

    'Sure, but people can change that too easily. All you need is a good plastic surgeon and enough cash.'

    Mordred groaned. 'Either we don't know where the weapons are coming in from, who has them, or when we do we can't get at them.'

    'Marten's going to have a heavy load with the paperwork from this.’

  Mordred hummed and glanced over the bystanders who were directed away from their little war-zone chunk of the street.

    'The Met wasn't always this corrupt was it?’ he asked and turned back to Will.

    'Your guess is as good as mine. Not as if you're an innocent bunny either. Don't give me that look, Leir. I appreciate you even more cause of your murky past. It's not everyday you get brainwashed by a serial killing cult.'

    Mordred's laugh burst out, abrupt, and made Will's grin grow, before his phone vibrated in his hand. 

    'Hang on a sec, Will,' he said and answered when he saw the caller. 'Update?'

    'We've got a prime suspect,' Arthur replied.

    'It's only Monday.’

    'Time is life, Mordred. Amanda's sister says she'd been seeing a new man. She identified him as the guy in the photo and gave us an address, so we're moving to bring him in this afternoon for questioning. Warrant is being drawn up now. And the pathology report confirms C.O.D. as asphyxiation. She drowned in her own blood.'

    Mordred sometimes hated working for the Met. He watched the CO19 start clearing out, higher ranking Intelligence officers climb into police cars as escorts for the remaining arrested, and more strangers watch with morbid curiosity from the sides.

    'I should be there, in case he reacts badly. Text me the address.'

    'Already did. Don't be late.'

    'I'm leaving now,' Mordred said and hung up, catching Will's quirked eyebrow.

    'Hot date?'

    'Murder case.'

    'As sexy as that is,' Will started and stepped towards him after thanking the medic. They were centimetres apart when he stopped, sleeve cut off to expose his muscle, the bandage, and general wear and tear. 'I doubt it's as dangerous as this gig. I hope you have a good time wishing you were back here with me.'

    'Thanks, Will,' he said. 'And for the record, suggesting I'd be arranging a date after what just happened takes a special kind of-'

    'Romantic disposition?'

    Mordred smiled. 'Sure.'

    'It's my curse,' Will told him with a shrug and wink. 'I'll check CCTV for Katja. Make sure you get some rest. See you tomorrow?'

    'Yeah. Tomorrow.'

   

    * * *

   

    Arthur led them to the base of the stairs and stopped to check them all over. Alexander Denton, the boy in the picture and likely the last person to see Amanda alive if not the one who killed her, was in a flat two floors up. Magic would be involved and the thought terrified him. He kept a hand wrapped around his baton and took steady breaths.

    'Mordred, you go in before me and only because you have magic. Gwaine, you and Percy take the rear. Leon, I want you to stay with the car in case he runs and contact Control for back up if you need it. Ready?'

    Percy scoffed. 'Always.'

    Gwaine looked down at his kevlar. 'Will these even help?'

    'No,' Mordred said. 'He can kill you without a gun or a knife.'

    'That's why you're here,' Leon chimed in.

    Mordred gave him a smile. 'Just call me canon fodder.'

    Leon eyed him. 'I prefer meat shield.'

    Arthur watched them banter, how the hostility and camaraderie twisted together into something unfamiliar and ugly but perfectly natural, entirely familiar. Mordred had been a knight after all. He let the memory go quickly and got their attention with an, 'Oi, let's focus. Remember that Alexander might not have control over his magic.'

    'That doesn't make me feel any better,' Percy muttered.

    Gwaine nodded and looked up the stairwell. 'And how are we supposed to write a report on this? How did you even requisition the kit without CO19 taking your soul as a safety deposit?'

    'The possible _violent murderer_ part covered that. As for the report, Kilgharrah probably has a plan,' Arthur said then nodded to Mordred. The man looked ready, his mouth set and eyes dark. It struck something in Arthur's chest, the darkness in his eyes eerily close to that in Merlin's. He didn't know what it meant. He didn't want to know. 'Don't do anything stupid, all right?'

    Mordred flashed a smirk but let it fall the next second. 'Nothing heroic on your end, then. If you have to get out then go. Don't wait or come back for me.'

    'Wasn't planning to,' Gwaine said under his breath.

    Arthur narrowed his eyes at the Irishman then leaned his stare into the only one with magic. It took a second to reign in his willpower, swallow his pride, and step aside. 'It won't come to that. I have to trust you. Lead the way, Mordred.'

    The walk up was silent, just footsteps, breaths and the slight friction of kevlar against the tough fabric of uniform. 

    Mordred came up to the door and knocked with his fist. 'Alexander Denton, this is the Metropolitan Police. We need to talk to you about the murder of Amanda Matthews.'

    They waited, Arthur beside the door frame with Percy and Gwaine blocking the hallway between them.

    Mordred shared a look with Arthur when the silence continued then leaned into the door. 'We have a warrant to enter and search the premises.'

    They gave it a few more seconds then Arthur watched as Mordred moved his hand down to the door's handle. In the quiet they heard the clicking of tumblers inside, saw the light flash in his eyes, then the door popped open an inch.

    Mordred pushed it open further slowly, the glow in his eyes growing. Arthur kept close behind him as they stepped into the darkness. He had just passed the threshold when something shoved him to the right, out of the way of the door and it slammed shut. A shiver ran through his skin and he tried to open it again.

    'Locked,' he whispered into the darkness, his team's voices muffled as they asked what was going on. Arthur sensed movement beside him when light flooded into the room, Mordred's finger on the switch next to the doorframe. It filled the air then flashed out again when the lightbulb whined loudly and glass exploded with sparks.

    'I can't unlock the door, but at least,' Mordred told him quietly before he paused and a ribbon of white light coiled itself around his hand, held out in front of him, 'we can have some light.' 

    His hand was illuminated with an eerie soft glow. It coiled into his palm, merged its layers together to form a ball, then lifted up and pulsed out a stronger dome of white light. Arthur looked into the room, made out the obscure shape of a sofa, coffee table, existing like strange lumpy creatures in a forest at night. His heartbeat picked up with instinct, and he remembered the natural fear that came with being alone in the dark, the fear of monsters hiding in the shapes of tree trunks and branches when they camped in the woods.

    Arthur moved forward, was instantly tugged back, and pulled behind Mordred who got out in front of him and held him there.

    'You shouldn't be here,' a voice said, raspy and sourceless.

    'Was it an accident, Alex?' Mordred asked softly. 'The power can be too much sometimes. I know. I really do. Don't make the situation worse. We can sort this out.'

    'You have it too,' it said. It seemed like it came out from just beyond the white dome's threshold, from the condensed shadows that surrounded them. Arthur kept still as Mordred took the lead.

    'I do.'

    'I didn't want to do it.'

    'I believe you, Alex.'

    'It was just a second,' he continued. Arthur noticed the calmness, the low quality of it. He knew sadness, depression, in someone's voice. He'd heard the change in his own during the first weeks after the attack. 'I was angry for a second. One _second_ and then I couldn't take it back. I couldn't undo it. I've never felt anything like it before. The power, the way I saw it in my head and then it actually happened. I just wish it hadn't been her. Is it like that for you?'

    'Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's unbearable too,' Mordred said. He'd pulled him back far enough so that Arthur's face stared directly into the back of his head. 'Sometimes I wish it would all go away, but we have a gift, Alex. We need to use it carefully. Use it respectfully.'

    'Respectfully? You're here to arrest me because I killed Amanda even though I loved her. Even though I didn't mean to.'

    ‘No, we just want to talk-’

    'You can't. I've got nothing now that she's gone, nothing except this feeling. This rush. It won't matter if you arrest me. You can't take it away.'

    Mordred nudged him back a little. 'Arthur, get out.'

    'Wha-'

    'Now,' he repeated, the ball of light flickering as the air began to lick out against them, picking up speed with some strange wind force. 'Now!'

    He gritted his teeth and turned around, tried the door again, began to ram his shoulder against the wood. Again, and again, and again. Percy was shouting through to him but Arthur couldn't make out what he was saying.

    'Mordred!' he yelled back. The light was gone and he blinked against the unnatural dark. Mordred was gone. The wind rushed past his ears, howling and whispering in different pitches. His heart raced and then he heard a cracking noise, looking back to see the wood of the door splintering as if something were hacking away at it from the inside.

    Arthur backed up and light burst back into the room. It was darker light. Redder. Fire chased itself along the back of the sofa, ran up the curtains, threw its red over the room with a terrifyingly lit gloom. He saw Mordred a few feet to the side and then a line of flame reached up between them in the splintered wood, a moving wall the wind beat into a wild frenzy. Oxygen and flames was a bad combination. Magical oxygen and fire was even worse.

    'Mordred!' he shouted and jerked backwards when the wall lashed out at him. Arthur watched as Mordred moved his arms in a strange sequence, quelled part of the wall, but he stopped too soon and fell to his knees. 'Mordred!'

    He had put his head to the ground, hands clutching fistfuls of his own hair, and cried out. The scream cut through the crackling rush like an animal's call at the dead of night. A cold wave swept through Arthur and his skin prickled. With his next breath he coughed, the smoke draining the air of light as it pooled on the ceiling above and sank lower. He embraced the rush of adrenaline and ran into the fire wall, jumped over as high as he could, cried out when heat sliced into his thigh, and hit the other side on his knees. 

    'Mordred?' he yelled, but the man was catatonic, eyes scrunched shut and muscles tensed. As he crawled over to him the floorboards fell out from beneath his palms and his back hit the ceiling. Blackness burning his eyes and throat. Arthur fell back down onto the fire, rolled out of it, and started patting down the flames on his trousers, on the sleeves of his shirt. The heat throbbed against every part of his skin and bloomed in his chest and head with a painful ache.

    He cleared his lungs with a gruesome sequence of coughs and yelled, 'Stop, Alex! You don't have to do this!'

    The shape of a man stood over him the next second. His heart beat itself against his ribcage then Arthur noticed the flames burning up and out from his own left hand. The world around him grew fuzzy, inconsequential. The orange form licking up and out around his fingers wasn't possible. He watched it in horror, the fire, the incomprehensible pain. The next second it was gone and his hand was fine.

    'Can you feel it?' a hot wet voice hissed into his right ear. 'The rush?'

    Arthur struck out at the face next to his with a fist but Alex caught it and bent his fingers back with inhuman force. He cried out when the bones broke. The vice-like grip on his ruined hand disappeared with another rush of wind and Alex flew backwards, his body thrown through the window. An influx of oxygen drove the flames higher and hotter for a second.

    The following quiet, the sudden calm of crackling heat and flames, none of it felt real. Another man stood a few feet ahead of him, materialised out of nothing, and Arthur's breath left him. The way he held himself, the tall silhouette, the _presence_.

    'Mer-'

    Mordred screamed and Arthur jerked his head to look at the man on his side, a trail of flames cutting across the carpet only a foot away from him. He limped over, saw his face covered in sweat, and tried not to shout at him when he said, 'Look at me, Mordred. Look at me. You're all right. You're all right, Mordred.'

    His thick eyebrows, scrunched up to meet in the middle of his head smoothed out a little and he opened his eyes. Arthur's hand was on his shoulder and he squeezed it gently as he forced their bodies back away from the fire.

    Mordred looked up at him.

    People called out his name before the door crashed down, Gwaine and Percy both falling down with the momentum of it. Gwaine had a fire extinguisher in hand, a make-shift battering ram, and started blasting the wet white foam over the room. It wasn't enough but it kept it at bay long enough to drag Mordred back out into the hallway. He grabbed his partly melted baton from the floor on the way and slid it back into his belt.

    Arthur left when Mordred nodded to him and headed to the hallway's window where streetlights had just turned on, their bulbs warming up and faint in the early evening gloom. He opened it and looked down. Alexander's body was below on the pavement, limbs splayed out like a biology experiment, face down and bloody. Leon had climbed out of the car, mouth leaned in to the radio. The reasonably busy street had come to an uncomfortable stop, filled with gasps and the few brave enough to get close to Alex's body in empty attempts to help. Others pointed up to where thick black smoke rolled up out of the broken window to his right. Leon waved them all back quickly and sternly.

    'Get him out here,' Arthur ordered when he turned back into the hallway, slightly light-headed with adrenaline and frantic breaths. Smoke had spread out and drifted up to the ceiling. The fire alarm went off loud, painfully, and Arthur marched over to see Gwaine still spraying the extinguisher effortlessly inside the flat. Percy leaned down and helped Mordred up to his feet.

    'Did Mordred do that?' Percy yelled, nodding to the window inside the flat, as he ensured the dazed man was secure in his grip.

    'Haven't the foggiest,' he lied, coughed and wheezed out his next breath. Sirens wailed in the distance. 'You both need to leave.'

    They obeyed and Arthur ducked under the smoke as much as he could. 

    'We can't contaminate the scene more than we have already, even if it’ll all burn up anyway,’ he shouted, grabbing Gwaine by the arm. 'We need to go.'

    He dragged them out and shut the door, both panting hard. Gwaine's forehead was slick and dirty with smoke and he dropped the extinguisher with a low thud, barely audible over the alarm. They directed other residents outside as they left, making sure everybody was out of the building and on the dimming street.

    The image of that man in the gloom stuck on his thoughts like tar. He'd saved them, somehow, but it couldn't be Merlin. Merlin was in a coma. Not quite dead but not entirely alive either.

    Arthur breathed heavily once they were outside. Alexander's body was still there. Broken and bloody. He felt rooted to the spot, vaguely aware of the pain in his hand and leg, his lungs, but more focused on what he'd seen. It had happened so fast, just like when Merlin- When they were attacked. With the blood, the way it had kept coming, had covered his teeth and spilled out of his mouth. He'd been trying to cough it out, he hadn't been able to speak. Arthur winced when a branch of pain sprouted up his forearm. 

    'Hey,' Gwaine said next to him. 'Keep it together, mate.'

    Arthur nodded and limped around the body towards Mordred who'd been sat down in the open passenger side of the car. The sirens grew louder.

    'What did he do to you?' Arthur asked. When he didn’t respond he added, ’You saved my life.’

    Mordred wouldn't meet his eyes. 'No. I didn’t.'

    No, he hadn't. Arthur knew it but he couldn't acknowledge it. It didn't make sense.

    'What do you mean?'

    'It wasn't me,' he said and looked up. His frown deepened. 'Your hand.'

    Arthur flipped his thoughts to stick with the sudden topic change. He looked at it, at the blood and the bruising. 'It's broken.'

    Mordred reached out. 'Let me-'

    'Don't.' Arthur stepped back. 'I've had enough magic for today.'

    He looked back across the street to where Percy was laying a plastic sheet over the body. The ambulance rounded the corner and Gwaine walked up to wave it over just as a response van parked up by the scene, blue lights flashing across the buildings and bystanders, and seven or so uniforms poured out to help control the scene.

    Arthur sighed. 'I swear to God this job will give me a heart attack one day. What the hell is going on?'

    Mordred didn't respond. He looked down to see him lean forward and cradle his head in his hands. The fire engine arrived and Arthur leaned back against the car. His skin was sticky, hot and sore, with no chance of a shower or change of clothes for the next three hours minimum. Then would come forensics and then the statements. His head pounded. Every thought dripped through red and fragmented as Mordred's screams rang in his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for In the Dark:
> 
> -Ready by Kovas  
> -broken by lovelytheband  
> -NEW COKE by Health  
> -begin again (HEALTH remix) by Purity Ring  
> -Monsters by Ruelle  
> -Anachronism by Crywolf


	3. Begin Again

    He was falling for the 8th time. Or was it the 15th? 25th? He had lost count of how many times he had tumbled down from the same cliff. Arthur's voice was in his head telling him not to close his eyes over and over and _over_ again. When the water hit his face and shoulders, this time no rocks, the cold shock registered in his mind with sharp terror and he choked on a lungful of saltwater as he went under. It burned inside as a new current hit his body and threw him down deeper. He was rolled down like a rag doll, back, forward, deeper. Colder.

    His body jerked upright.

    'Merlin!'

    His next breath came in too fast, too smooth and light, and he struggled to ease the hyperventilation. The gasping slowed down as he recognised the voice and blinked several times. The soft-solid water around his body moved up gently, the walls pulled themselves up to form a room in a manner of seconds, and the dim light shone down from the fluorescent tube above him. 

    'You're in the hospital, Merlin,' the voice said. He followed it and turned his head to see an old man. His arms began to shake and he rested back down into the soft-solid.

    'Hospital,' he repeated, voice raspy as it filled his mouth with strange noise. He studied the old man's face. 'I don't- I'm Merlin?'

    'Yes. Merlin Emrys,' the man agreed. 'You were stabbed. You had to undergo an operation and blood transfusions. Merlin, I-'

    'What happened to me after?'

    'There was some kind of infection and your kidneys failed under the stress. You went into renal failure and toxins spread throughout your body. We suspect they reached your brain, and the transfusions helped, but you fell into a coma. You've been comatose since the 8th of August. Today is Tuesday the 29th of November. It's 2 a.m. and you're in-'

    'St Thomas' Hospital.'

    'Yes. You know who I am?'

    Merlin knew it was important that he did and a bubble of panic built itself up inside his chest. He turned his head and looked out the window. All he could make out was the night and a few clouds visible with their lighter blue hue. They grew darker, thicker, and then the night air did too.

    'There's a storm,' he said.

    'There wasn't a second ago,' the man remarked with surprise. Merlin ran his hands over the blanket, experienced the sensation of the smooth fabric, noticed the tube stuck into the back of his hand. Something clicked and he heard a small gasp. They both looked at the nurse in the doorway.

    'You're awake,' she breathed, stared wide-eyed for several seconds, then darted out of view calling for someone. Merlin frowned and lifted up the hand with the tube, palm facing up. Glassy liquid pooled in it before it spread out into a smooth reflective oval.

    The old man leapt out of the seat, ran to the door and slammed it shut. 'Merlin, you can't just use magic in a public place like this!'

    He ignored the scolding and stared at the man in his palm mirror. Blue eyes, dark circles beneath them, pale complexion dotted with dark stubble. Hair that seemed longer than it should be, a fringe now wavily touching his eyebrows, and deep hollows in his cheeks. Merlin twitched his forefinger and the liquid burned itself up from the bottom, dripping onto his skin like hot oil. He hissed at the pain but let it drip and burn until it had melted away. Dropping his arm back down he realised how numb his whole body felt. He could twitch his toes, and shifted his knees a little, but the weakness in the absent muscle was unfamiliar.

    'Three months and three weeks,' he said. 'That's how long I've been out?'

    'Yes.'

  There was a distant clap of thunder and Merlin looked back out the window at the night sky. 'Where's Arthur?'

    'He's okay, thanks to you. You saved him.'

    He recognised the sentiment, saving his life, from Camelot and in the present world. There was something even fresher though, sat on his tongue, but he couldn't clearly see what it was. It tasted bitter. He just remembered the heat and the shape with glowing eyes.

    ‘Saved him from the shadow and fire?' Merlin asked the man, hoping for clarification.

    'From the men Aredian sent. What shadow and fire?' he said. His gentle voice had turned softer with a change in mood Merlin couldn't figure out. Aredian a.k.a the Witch hunter. His threat remained in his head. It sat inside him, formless and haunting with a sense of suffocation. 'Oh, it doesn't matter. You remember Arthur, at least, which is good news.'

    Merlin blinked, breathed in with a deep rumbling from the clouds, and focused back on the man. 'I was stabbed not bludgeoned. Of course I remember Arthur.'

    'Yes, it's just the doctors couldn't find any medical explanation for your condition. The initial infection I mean, and the lack of response to any treatments once you entered the coma. For why you wouldn't wake up. I believe they had just started discussing options if your condition didn't improve in the next month.'

    'Options?'

    'They didn't think you were ever going to wake up, my boy. Thank the gods you did.'

    He nodded along, remembering the walls that had struck up around him, the way the cliffside with Morgana had rotted away into a stone labyrinth. The way the sea was swallowed up by roots and vines and the sky became erratic, grey with rain, or snow, or that unbearable silence. The dragon that flew over. That's where he'd been.

    'I was lost.'

    'You were lost?'

    When he tried to clearly picture the place again it swept back out of his reach. Stone, water, grass sometimes. The air had been cold, hadn't it? His head ached and he could only recognise the feelings, the fear, he'd felt. 'Yeah.'

    'How did you find your way back again?'

    Back from what? Merlin frowned at the question. How had he come out of the coma? 

    'I opened my eyes,' he replied.

    'Merlin,' a new voice said and he saw a doctor walking in. 'How are you feeling?'

    The rain against the window caught his attention. 'Strange.'

    'To be expected. I'm just going to ask you a few questions, is that all right?'

    The old man took his hand, squeezed it, and Merlin resisted the urge to pull back. It was comforting in a way, but he didn't know why the man would do it.

    'Yeah, ask away,' he told him.

    'Let's start with the basics, shall we?' the doctor began and came to stand at the end of the bed. 'What's your full name?'

    'Merlin Emrys. No middle name.'

    She scribbled something down onto a clipboard. 'Date of Birth?'

    'Kalends Day, January.'

    'Kalends day?’ she repeated with a twitch in her eyebrows. ‘What year?'

    '1017,' Merlin said. Why was the doctor looking at him like that? The old man seemed confused as well. He was born in 1017, he knew he was. Oh. ‘Wait, that's wrong. I was born on the first of January, 1992. I'm 24.'

    There was a longer pause before the doctor asked her next question. 'Where were you born?'

    'Carmarthen. It's a town in Wales,' he said, but the answer didn't feel quite right. He hadn't lived in Wales, had he? 'Wait, it might have been Ealdor. That's a village in Essetir.'

    'Essetir?' the old man repeated. Merlin looked at him. Definitely not Ealdor then. 

    'Neither actually,' he said, slowly, carefully, as the more recent location turned over in his thoughts. 'I was born in Bristol. Yeah, Bristol. St Michael's Hospital.'

    'You're sure?' the doctor asked.

    'Yeah.'

    'Good.'

    'Gaius,' Merlin started and the old man perked up. It was his Gaius from the castle. This version of Gaius didn't know about all of that though. The rain outside grew heavier.

    'Yes?'

    'Arthur's okay?'

    'Of course he is, my boy,' Gaius assured him, patted his hand with a soft smile, and turned to the doctor. 'Can we let him have some rest, please?'

    She thought about it for too long, checked her watch and slipped the clipboard back into its slot at the end of the bed. 'Yes, I'll visit again around 9 a.m., okay? Happy to see you awake, Merlin.'

    When she'd left Gaius moved his hand away. 'You're freezing, Merlin.'

    'Am I?'

    'You don't feel cold?'

    He didn't feel anything in particular, but he knew he was forgetting something. Where had he been before he woke up? He'd been somewhere important. He'd done something important.

    'I think I'm losing my mind.'

    'Why would you think that?'

    'I can see it in your face,' he said, dejected. Why would Gaius even ask that? It was obvious. It had taken him three tries to correctly say where he'd been born. 'I didn't recognise you, Gaius. I didn't know you. I don't know me.'

    'You know Arthur,' he offered with earnest.

    'That's different, that's,' Merlin paused. Why wasn't it the same as knowing himself? _Himself_ relied on Arthur. He wouldn't be who he was without Arthur. The next clap of thunder rolled through the air in the room like electricity. 'It's fate. It's not mine. It's not me.'

    Gaius didn't say anything.

    'I saw Morgana,' he finally said into the buzzing, dark quiet. His head hurt trying to hold onto the sense of her, of the people he'd seen in his head. Somewhere. Had he seen her? If he had it was probably a dream, wasn't it? She'd died. They'd all died. 'I think I saw my parents, too. It was all wrong, though. It's all wrong.'

    Gaius hushed him. 'You've been through enough, Merlin. Go to sleep and don't worry about all that now. I promise I'll stay with you through the night.'

    Merlin didn't want to forget but he already had. What he'd forgotten, he couldn't tell, but he'd definitely lost something. Going back to sleep, closing his eyes, sent a surge of cold anxiety through his nerves. What if he went back? What if he disappeared again?

  He nestled back against the pillow, turned his head away from his watcher for the night, and stared into the storm outside. He wouldn't sleep. He wouldn't risk it. The rain had turned into a constant violent pattering on the window panes with thunder running through the droplets as if the clouds were cooing at them to calm down, to fall and die without a struggle. He wouldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t let the thunder take him back.

   

* * *

     

        Arthur was at his desk for thirty-seconds before Gwen planted herself on the edge of it. Elyan wandered past them both with one of the other Murder Team detectives he'd partnered with on an arson case, the irony not lost on him, and paused.

        'Got a thorn stuck in your paw?' he asked, eyeing Arthur's hand. 

        He hid his smile and narrowed his eyes at the DC. 'Ha ha.'

        'Can I take a look?' Gwen said and waved her brother off. She gently turned it around between her fingers and Arthur held back his wince at the soft pressure through the cast the ER had given him. 'It's a miracle you survived. Both of you.'

        He nodded and lowered his hand. 'It is.'

        'Look on the bright side,' Gwaine said behind him.

        'Do tell.'

        'I think we've set a new record for closing a murder case with a complete confession and all,' he went on and came to place a cup of coffee next to the keyboard. 'Three days, was it?'

        Arthur lifted up the sheet he'd just started to fill in. 'Paperwork isn't done yet. We have another twelve witness statements minimum. Plus the IPCC want to take a long hard look at it. Thanks for the coffee by the way.'

        Gwaine huffed. 'You're being a scrooge lately, you know that?'

        'Gwaine,' Gwen warned him with arched brow. She had a new glow the last few months and when the ring on her finger caught the light Arthur could have sworn she outright sparkled. She was his best friend, next to Leon, and let him crash at her house when his nightmares became too much. Arthur zoned out, the cloud of memory filling up his thoughts with the restless nights, the sweat and wet pillowcase. Turned out watching your partner, watching Merlin, basically die- It really screwed with your head. It screwed with his, at least.

        'Sorry, mate.' Gwaine's apology jerked him back into the Yard. 'This case blew up a little, didn't it? When's the press conference?'

        'There won't be one,' Arthur told him and picked up the pen again to write his incident report. Everything was electronic now but physical copies, written by hand, were a tradition and far more secure. That’s what Kilgharrah told him anyway. Type up a report for the files on their closed-circuit systems and write a physical one as well.

        'Why not? It wasn't exactly covert. The guy flew out the window of a burning room which then went on to nearly light the whole building up like a matchstick.'

        'Kilgharrah has a plan for keeping the whole frenzy, end-of-the-world-is-here, magic-is-real stuff at bay, and he'll handle inquiries over the fire,' he said, voice partially detached from his thoughts as he wrote about the door closing behind him and Mordred in the flat. Same things he'd told that other detective in his statement on the day. A few minor differences here and there for a genuine air and he could move on. Gwen left her desk and Gwaine took her place in the corner of his eye. 'For now the press have a few statements he gave earlier this morning. Evening Standard were the first to ply the PR Office for information.'

        'Oh.'

        'We've just got to wrap up loose ends and put forward forensic evidence when it comes in. Alexander Denton doesn't have any loved ones to push for a post-mortem trial so it's an open and shut case. The IPCC shouldn’t be getting involved.’

        'So you have plenty of time to prep for that date with Mithian,' Percy said when he dropped a closed file on the edge of his desk. Arthur's stomach dropped when he remembered and Gwaine remained silent. 

        He looked up to respond when he saw Gwen on her phone, hand over her mouth.

        'Oh my god,' she said. 'What do you mean? You don't think-? No, I know, but- I know, I'll tell them and yes. I said I know, didn't I? I know means I know, Gaius. How were you even there so late? I'll call you tomorrow after we visit. Yes. You too.'

        She put the phone away and stared at them.

        Percy looked as confused as Arthur felt. 'What?'

        'Gaius just called,' she said. Her expression was one of complete shock, and it took a lot to shock Gwen with all the people that confided in her.

        'Gaius?' Arthur said when she kept gaping at nothing. 'Why did he call you?'

        'Merlin,' she finally said and a hush fell over them all. 'He's awake.'

        The quiet that soaked the air popped when she grinned. Arthur watched as she tried to share something with him in a sparkling stare. His world rolled in on itself and he felt incomprehensibly alone. It finally hit home. The part of his brain that sat with arms folded in a corner, glaring out with denial, crumbled. Sat on his wheeled office chair it all seemed pointless: the report, the magic, the murder. Somewhere inside something had built up with pressure and at last it broke like a dam holding back water that had risen day by day, hour by hour.

        'Nothing keeps him down,' Gwaine said with a laugh and suddenly the world was animated again. The water was free. It was flooding.

        'We have to visit him, all of us. Let him know we're here for him,' she gushed.

        'After work?' Leon suggested.

        'Oh, what about your date?'

        'Percy, do you really think Arthur cares about a date when Merlin's just come out of a coma?' Gwen scolded him quickly. 'It's Merlin. Right, Arthur?'

        A shiver ran through him and he focused back on finding a reply. 'Right.'

        His chest was tight when he carried on filling out the report. The writing had become wobbly, scratchy and uneven. His hand had started to shake. Arthur breathed deeply and put it to the side, taking a new one from its metal pot, and started the sentence again. _The door was locked after we entered-_

        He stopped when he looked back and couldn't make out a thing he'd just written. The sound of Gwaine planning something with Percy had become unbearable. It was all too noisy, his chest was too tight, and his one good hand couldn't bloody well behave.

        Merlin was awake.

        He put the pen down onto the paper again and the ink seeped into the white. When he drew it up to shape a 't' it jerked up too far. Merlin was awake and his hand wouldn't stop shaking. He had to fill in this report. He had a job. He had a serious case. Arthur attempted a new 't' when it suddenly curved left and the ridiculously loud noise pressed in on him.

        His hand struck out at the pen pot. It flew across the margin between his desk and the glass wall of a meeting room where it clanged and clattered down. The noise brought attention, Gwaine and Percy finally shutting up. 

        He stood. 'I need some air.' 

        His coat was on and he was in the lift before he had time to process anything. The walk to the hospital was frosty, clouds still dark from the storm the night before. As he crossed Westminster Bridge St Thomas' seemed to have shed its gloom. His pace was slowed a little by the burn on his leg but he made it to the entrance within twenty minutes. 

        Arthur kept his thoughts locked out and managed to keep unnoticed as he made his way to the lift. Visiting hours only started at 2 p.m., but like hell was he waiting until then. He flashed his warrant card to one curious nurse and he was safe to wait and study the people who came in and out of the lift as it climbed up to the tenth floor.

        Merlin was in a private room, that Arthur had made sure of. He’d struck up a deal with Merlin’s landlord to let them keep his Notting Hill flat, signing a contract to pay the rent and bills as a guarantor, as well as any hospital bills. Uther was probably rolling in his grave at how his son was spending away his inheritance on a manservant. Arthur shook off the idea and when the doors slipped open he headed for the North Wing, Albert Ward.

        Merlin's door was open and Arthur stepped into the doorway before he could talk himself out of it.

        Warmth poured through his body when he saw him. Merlin, eyes open, was using a knife to poke at food on the tray in front of him.

        Arthur watched him prod, ignored the ache in his leg, and grinned. 

        'Merlin.'

        At the sound of his name the man looked up and froze. Arthur moved closer and took it in, the light in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks, the way they were actually looking at each other. His heart _hurt_. He'd missed just looking at him and having Merlin look back.

        'You're staring,' Arthur told him.

        'I'm allowed to stare,' he shot back and Arthur's grin widened. He didn't know what to do, how to feel, with too many emotions stuffing up his chest and head at the same time.

        'You are,' he agreed.

        Merlin placed the plastic knife down next to the uneaten meal. 'They won't let me leave the bed and the food's terrible.'

        'I think it's supposed to be,' Arthur said. 'How are you feeling? Do you need anything?'

        'Gwaine apparently dropped off some of my stuff a few weeks ago just in case,' he said, partly mumbled, and for a second Arthur could imagine Merlin when he was little, vulnerable. The image was odd, endearing, and he stepped closer. 'But if you want to get me a bear I wouldn't complain. This place is a bit dull and I'm freaking the nurses out by talking to myself.'

        'You want to talk to a teddy bear?'

        Merlin scoffed. 'No, to myself, but they might find the idea of a grown man talking to a stuffed bear more . . . bearable.'

        There a flash of mischief in Merlin's eyes.

        Arthur smiled. 'One teddy bear coming up. What do you talk to yourself about?'

        Merlin's lack of any particular expression flirted with a smile before he looked out the window and it disappeared. He didn't respond for a full, silent minute.

        'Merlin?'

        He frowned at something. 'Can you feel it?'

        'What?'

        'I'm not sure. It's cold,' he said slowly. 'I think I let it come here. I think it followed me.'

        'Let what come here? What followed you?'

        Merlin looked back at him. 'I'm sorry. Did I tell you that I was?'

        'Sorry for what?'

        'For what I did to you. It was selfish.'

        'Merlin, you don't need to be sorry. I understand why you didn't tell me, why you showed me when you did. It's not something I ever expected to have to deal with. Pretty sure you never expected it either.'

        'I ruined everything,' he said darkly and stared into his food. 'I wasn't there for you when Uther died. I wasn't there for you when Morgana-'

        'Merlin,' Arthur cut him off and sat on the chair next to the bed. 'You almost died saving my life. You don't have to be sorry. It's not like you could help it. This, _life_ , it's big. You can't be everyone and everything you want to be, not all the time. We _both_ fucked up.'

        Merlin refused to meet his eyes until he said, 'We did.'

        'Next time, if there is a next time,' Arthur started, resting his hand on the edge of the mattress. 'If anyone threatens you, Merlin, you come to me. You _always_ come to me. You tell me everything because that's what partners do. That's what we do. From now on no more lies.'

        His heart beat harder with the fear that it was too demanding, that it would make Merlin lash out at him, that it was too soon to talk about anything serious, but it was honest. He wanted to demand this, he wanted to make it clear to Merlin. He'd be damned if he didn't make it clear. Merlin had no right to defend him the whole bloody time. He was mortal like everyone else.

        'Okay,' he mumbled a minute later. Arthur breathed out a lungful of the sterile hospital air and scooted to the edge of the chair.

        'What did the doctors say about your recovery? Can you use magic to help?'

        Merlin's head sank into the pillow when he rested back and turned to Arthur. He looked exhausted. 'I've been referred to the physiotherapy department. It's too early to tell how long it will take before I can walk properly.'

        'You can't walk?'

        'Muscles atrophied a bit while I was in the coma, it's nothing serious,' he explained and half-heartedly lifted up his arm. Sure enough the bones were more prominent and the strength he'd trained into them had wasted away. Arthur had noticed during his visits but Merlin actually moving it made it uncomfortably obvious. 'If I use magic it will have to be subtle. It has to appear natural.'

        'Maybe you shouldn't use magic at all.'

        'At all?'

        'They'll be monitoring you, Merlin. Gods only know what would happen if they found out.'

        'I _have to_ use magic, Arthur. If I don't . . . I'm pretty sure whatever kept me in a coma was magic related. Recovering won't happen if I don't use at least a little bit. Besides, I need to get out of here to protect your royal arse,' he said and the faded smile flared back into life, spreading his lips and pushing folds up into his cheeks.

        Arthur pretended to gawk at the comment. 'Is that any way to address your king?'

        Merlin's hand came up for a swat that he ducked. They laughed and Merlin laid his hand down again, this time closer to where Arthur's sat on the edge.

        'You seem tired,' Arthur said.

        'I haven't slept.'

        'Why not?'

        Resistance shot into his expression. Arthur closed the gap until his fingers curled over Merlin's.

        Merlin turned his hand over so their palms touched and spread out his fingers, lacing their hands together. 'I'm scared.'

        'Of what?'

        'That I won't be able to wake up.'

        'You'll be okay, Merlin.'

        'Will I?' Arthur didn't know what to say. In all honesty he was scared of the same thing. 'Three months, Arthur. I was- I wasn't- What if I never woke up again? What if I did die? Just when I decided I didn't want to, not again, not ever, I-'

        'Merlin-'

        'What if you'd-' he broke off and turned his head to look up to the ceiling. Arthur watched the wetness pool in Merlin's eyes, the flush of his skin, the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. 'I'm going to get better and I'm coming back to work and even if what we had is gone, it's not like I could leave you if I tried. You'll just have to live with it.'

        'What we had could never be gone, Merlin. It's just different, that's all.'

        Merlin laughed. 'You're such a prat.'

        'Don't hold it against me,' he said and grinned. 'You won an award.'

        'I did?'

        Again there was a light in Merlin's eyes. It erased the tired circles, the years he seemed to have carried before the attack, before it all. Arthur stroked his thumb across Merlin's.

        'A big one. You even have a trophy. It’s at my flat for now but once you’re better,’ he paused. ‘There's a lot to catch up on, but I have a new case and need to get back to work.'

        'What case?'

        'No.'

        'Why no?'

        'You're only problem right now is getting back to fighting form. No unnecessary stress,' Arthur said. 'The others will be coming around this evening so you need to rest up.'

        'What about you? When are you coming back?'

        Arthur smiled at him. 'Whenever you need me to. Whenever I can.'

        Merlin mulled over it, eyes scanning over him in an oddly personal way, until he returned the smile. 'I missed you.'

        'I missed you, too,' he said and in the quiet that sat between them he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin's forehead. The position was awkward, and his hand was still tied with Merlin's, but he stayed long enough to smell him, to feel his stronger breath shift the air. It was so different and familiar. Merlin, his idiot manservant, the warlock who'd protected him for years without seeking any praise. Without wanting anything. 

        'Arthur,' he started.

        Arthur sat back into the chair. 'Merlin?'

        'I'd love it if we could start again.'

        Something panged in Arthur's chest but he kept his smile and light attitude. 'Technically we already have.'

        'Don't be obtuse,' Merlin said, sparkle in his eyes. 'You know what I meant.'

        'I do.' He knew exactly what Merlin meant. Begin again as if what had happened hadn't. As if what had happened was something they could pack up, acknowledge, and move on from. As if the thing between them was just as naive, just as pure as it had been at the start. As if hadn’t changed into something stranger, darker, and harder. ‘I’m just . . . I'm still wrapping my head around this. The last three months have been hard.'

        'It is a lot.'

        'But I really do,' he paused, staring at their hands. He'd missed him so much, but there was Uther in his head. There was the Morgana he'd grown up with in two lifetimes. There was the Guinevere he'd married. Things couldn't start over. He had to learn how to live with the life he led, the life he _had_ led. 

        'Really do what?'

        'Love you.' Arthur moved his stare from their hands to Merlin's eyes. 'Now and then. Past and present. It's just not that simple.'

        Merlin laughed awkwardly, the smile confused. 'Is that a gentle way of saying no?'

        'It's me saying I can't. I don't want to. I care about you, but sometimes that's not enough. Not by itself.'

        Now the smile fell. 'Why not?'

        'Starting again is what caused this, Merlin. It's what made us screw up in the first place. I do want to _continue_ ,' Arthur said, sorting out the logic and feelings, 'and I want to do it with you-'

        'With me as in-'

        'As in my partner in the Met, my best advisor, my closest friend.'

        Arthur saw his sparkle fade, felt his hand start to pull away, but he tightened his grip. His throat was closing up.

        'But not-'

        'I want it, I really do,' he rushed, 'but there's stuff we need to talk about first. You know there is. A lot of stuff. You've been unconscious for _months_ , Merlin. I thought about all of it everyday, about you. I want an _us_. It just can't happen right away. So much has happened.'

        Merlin frowned. 'Oh.'

        'Merlin-'

        He let out a shaky breath. 'I get it, Arthur. I've been stuck in my own head for a while so . . . We didn't leave things in the best space.'

        There it was. The memory of his nauseated, aching head, blood everywhere, the way Merlin's eyes had slipped shut. His head had tipped down, rested against his shoulder, entire body limp. The cold horror, the panic, the sirens someone had called for. No, that wasn't the best space. Merlin probably meant the fact that they ignored each other in the days preceding, the passive aggression, the way the summer had blown up so utterly in their faces.

        Arthur refocused on the man in front of him. He was used to hiding his feelings, Uther had made sure of that in both lifetimes, but hiding meant controlling them and he knew it would be unbearable. He had no choice, though, not until he'd figured out what exactly it was he was hiding, what he felt in the first place, if it even had a name.

        'I'm always going to be here for you and not because fate is telling me to be. I want to be. Let's just see how things go. Let the chips fall where they may, you know?'

        'Yeah,' Merlin murmured, eyes cast down at the bed sheet. When his hand tugged away again Arthur let it go. 'You should probably go. I'm tired.'

        His legs refused to move. 'I'll get you the teddy bear?'

        'You don't have to. It's stupid.'

        'No, it's not. I want to. I can have Gwen or Gwaine bring it over tonight?'

        'Thanks.'

        'You have your phone?'

        'Part of the care package Gwaine brought.'

        Arthur couldn't believe he'd made Merlin look like that. Sparkle gone, eyes wet, as if someone had made him watch as they shot his pet. What the fuck was he doing?

        'I'll call you,' he said and finally got up. Merlin nodded and took the knife again to shove some baby carrots around. 'You need to eat it even if it's terrible. It'll help you heal.'

        Merlin nodded again. He stabbed one, put in his mouth, and went back to murder some peas. He'd shut down. Arthur walked backwards to the door.

        When he reached it he paused. 'We can't start again, Merlin, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in second chances. They aren't mutually exclusive.'

        He was trying so hard to get across what he meant. His chest was tight again. The relief he'd felt earlier was real and wonderful but Merlin had lied to him in two lifetimes now. It wasn't lying to him that really hurt, though. It was lying to him to the point of almost losing his own life, of practically committing suicide for him, _repeatedly_ , that was the problem. Merlin wasn't safe with him when he thought like that.

        Merlin looked back up to him and smiled. 'It's okay, Arthur. Whatever you need.'

        His smile was empty, eyes still wet, red, and they didn't crinkle at the corners like Arthur remembered they always used to. He nodded and left. When he got back outside into the winter air his chest caved in. He told himself over and over again that there was loyalty and then there was being an idiot. If only Merlin could stop being an idiot and understand.

        Arthur scrubbed his face, swallowed the burning lump that had settled there, and headed back to the Yard. After all, there was no better way to forget about past lives and the man he loved than diving head first into a possible magic apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Begin Again:  
> -Macbeth - From “Macbeth” Soundtrack by Jed Kurzal  
> -Rising, Rising - Bassnectar Remix by Crywolf, Bassnectar  
> -Go by Gracie and Rachel  
> -It’s Alright by Fractures  
> -Coma Boy by Rebecca Clements  
> -Seeing Stars by Empathy Test


	4. Burn it Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you feel like having particular dates with chapter breaks would help you navigate the timeline of the story let me know e.g. Monday 18th December and so on. Happy reading xxx

    'Can't you just magic it away?’ Gwaine asked, eyeing his shirt and the scar beneath it.

    Merlin glared at him. 'What do you think I've been doing?'

    'You wince with every step. Shouldn't it have done more by now? It’s the 18th, mate, it’s almost been a month.’

    'I don't think it will ever heal completely,' he said and pulled on his coat. The proper clothing was a refreshing change to the hospital gowns and loungewear he’d worn during physical therapy. It made him feel capable again. It distanced him from the weakness, the ‘victim’ status he’d felt branded on his forehead whenever Gwen visited. 'Magic or no magic.'

    'Woah, where'd the optimism go? Why not?'

    'It should have killed me and the only reason it didn't was because of my magic. Mortal wounds and all that. You must have read or seen Lord of the Rings. Frodo and the morgul blade?'

    'So you were stabbed with a morgul blade?' Gwaine asked, eyebrow arched up and arms folded as he watched him finish packing his things into the canvas duffel bag.

    Merlin grinned at him. 'Basically.'

    Gwaine stepped up and dropped in a pair of headphones before Merlin zipped up the bag. ‘You know I’m quite touched.'

    'Touched?'

    'That you'd pick me to be your new flatmate,' he said and hooked the bag over his shoulder, ignoring Merlin's hands as they grabbed for it.

    Merlin smiled. 'I'm surprised you said yes.'

    'Why?'

    'We weren't exactly on the best terms before I-'

    'Mate,' Gwaine said and put a hand on his arm, 'almost losing my best friend kind of put things in perspective.'

    'Best friend?' Merlin couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face. 'You've only known me a year.'

    'And a lifetime, right? I would say Percy but you and I have what I feel is a deeper connection. Anyway, I've got a bet going that you'll stay out of all hospitals for the next month, at _least_. Don't disappoint.' 

    'You bet on that?'

    'Elyan thought you'd be back in hospital within the next two weeks.'

    'Harsh.'

    'And Percy thought it would be in the next three.'

    'Anything longer than a month?'

    'I think Gwen put down a tenner that you'd be safe and sound for the next three months. Very devil-may-care of her if you ask me.’

    'That's nice of her.'

    'Yeah, but that also means you'll have to trip yourself down a flight of stairs or something come February so I win. Until then not even a scratch okay? You can't miss Christmas or New Years.'

    'Yeah, no, I wouldn't want to miss them. Christmas is next week, isn't it?' 

    Merlin frowned when he realised.

    'Monday. Figured you might want to spend it with me and the others? My parents want me to fly back to Dublin, but I don't want to leave you-'

    'Gwaine, you've gone above and beyond for me already. Knowing I get to lounge around your bachelor pad is all I need for a good Christmas. You're going to spend it with your family who I doubt you see often as it is. I'll take you there myself if I have to,' Merlin said. 'Out of curiosity, that bet, how much total?'

    Gwaine frowned a little, stuck his hand out and counted on his fingers, muttering names and numbers under his breath. 'The total is £715 at the moment.'

    Merlin's mouth gaped open. 'Ouch, did everyone put money on it? That's way too much.'

    'Everyone on the team, plus Lance, excluding Arthur,' he said. Arthur didn't bet on his safety, then. He wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or insult. The betting itself had him mildly entertained and offended as it stood. 'I may have started it off a bit steep with £400. No one really topped that.'

    Merlin sighed and smiled at him. 'Gwaine.'

    'I'm going to win, mate, so no harm no foul,' he stretched up out of the air. ‘Are you ready?'

    'I've just got to make a call.'

    'I'll wait downstairs,' he paused. 'Or do you need help getting down there?'

    'I can go myself, don’t worry.’

    He waited until Gwaine had closed the room's door, his duffel bag in tow, before he took out the mobile. Several missed calls, all from Arthur. It had been almost three weeks since he'd woken up and Arthur had explained their new dynamic to him.

    Merlin couldn't bring himself to see or talk to him since then. He made sure he was alright through Gwaine, Gaius occasionally, but mostly Gwen. He breathed through the tightness in his chest and pressed the call button. It rang until the 'sorry the person you're trying to reach is unable to take your call' toned. He hung up, breathed deeply against the flutter in his stomach and called again. It was now or never.

    ' _Hello?_ '

    The voice was definitely not Arthur's. Higher-pitched, soft and a little thick with sleep. A woman's. Heat pushed up into his face and burned beneath his cheeks.

    'Is Arthur there?' he asked, voice steady.

    ' _He's in the shower, sorry. I can take a message if you like?_ '

    There definitely wasn't enough air in the room. 'Who are you?'

    ' _Mithian. Who are you?_ '

    A shiver strummed down his spine and curled around the nape of his neck. It couldn't be her. If it was Arthur must know. He must not care. 'You're a friend of Arthur's?'

    ' _We're dating. If you want to give me your name I can let him know you called._ '

    Arthur wouldn't do this to him. He wouldn't. Not after what had happened, after everything they'd been through. He'd said it, though, hadn't he? _Us_ can't happen right away. There wasn't a new beginning for them, but there was a second chance, wasn't there? 

    ' _Hello? Are you still there?_ '

    Merlin pulled the mobile down into his lap and hung up. The shiver tingled through his whole body, made everything slightly numb, and pooled cool and hard in his stomach. The fluorescent lighting flickered then blinked out. He got to his feet, with a small spike of pain in his stomach where the knife had cut into him, and turned to watch the bars of daylight from the blinds grow weaker. They faded into an ugly grey, then disappeared entirely. His body shivered instinctively with the drop in temperature. He tried to keep his breaths calm. He'd dealt with this twice now. He could do it again. 

    _Emrys_.

    Strangled, thin, and piercing its voice slipped around his neck, inched up with cold fingers around his face. He could hear his heart thud in the silence, the heat struggling against whatever cold now polluted the room's air.

    _Emrys_ another voice called out, husky and distorted as if underwater. _Emrys_.

    Was the air thinner now too? He stepped back in the darkness, knocked against the chair, and fought the impulse to run out of the room.

    'Do it,' he whispered. 'Whatever you are, whatever you're here for, just do it.'

    His dulled senses sharpened and the cold ached under skin, behind his eyes. He could smell something earthy and wet, so strong it overwhelmed the disinfectant.

    _Emrys_ a chorus of voices called out, hissed almost. Female and male, some crackling with age, others like a child's. _Emrys, Emrys, Emrys._

    'Just do it!'

    The mobile rang out and he jumped, the adrenaline shot through his body, and the room was normal again. He could hear the hospital staff outside, see the pale light stream in through the blinds, and then the phone rang again. Merlin ran a hand through his hair and looked to the screen. Arthur was calling. He pressed his lips together. His heart still raced, his breaths were unsteady, and his fingers still numb. On its third ring he declined the call.

    Figures he'd have a mental breakdown. Another thing to add to his list of _Deal with before it gets worse._ Craziness wasn't conducive to police work or protecting the Once and Future Prick. Prat. _King_. Whatever. He shoved the mobile into his jean's pocket and turned around, dropped through seven floors and blinked through nine rooms and hallways until he stood next to Gwaine.

    'Shit!' the Irishman squawked before he laughed the shock away. 'Mate, you gave me a heart attack.'

    'If I wanted to give you a heart attack I'd be more honest about it.'

    Gwaine eyed him. 'You're okay?'

    'Yeah,' he said and tucked his hands into his peacoat's pockets. They were still too cold. 

    'Let's get you to your new home, then.' Gwaine smiled, the traces of a worried frown still set into his forehead, and linked an arm with him. 'I need to keep a better eye on you from now on I think. You always seem to get yourself into some sort of life threatening trouble.'

    They made their way back to his flat in Shoreditch the normal Londoner way and arranged a black cab. Gwaine caught Merlin up on his house rules and what had happened in his absence. Merlin kept quiet and let Gwaine's story wash over him: Magic being used to murder, Morgana's disappearance and presumed death, Arthur's new 'fling' with Mithian Thomas. She was a barrister, gym rat, came from old money, and several other things Merlin hadn't wanted to pay attention to.

    Gwaine had seen her pick Arthur up for dinner at the Yard and gave Merlin a detailed description when prompted, after which his thoughts made a swan dive into murky and unpleasant waters. Gwaine didn't prod his shut down. He just kept close to him as they headed up to his flat and showed him to his new room before heading back to work.

    Merlin went out onto the balcony. Rooftops and bushy heads of evergreen trees struck up between the brick and concrete. A cold wind blew against him and through their leaves to fill the air with a soft rustle. He was going back to Scotland Yard tomorrow. He took in a breath of fresh morning air, headed back inside, and threw his coat over the arm of the leather sofa. Only a few months before they'd all been here, eating take-out and facing off Bayard. Everything was different and similar. The place had barely changed. Maybe it was a little neater. Merlin flopped down onto the other sofa, knees pulled up so his feet could nestle themselves against the cool fabric. He stared up at the white ceiling, with the gentle and bright spotlighting and cold air blowing in from the open balcony's sliding doors taking over his senses.

    Laid down like that he barely felt the wound but as he settled in to listen to the traffic and wind outside the cold from the hospital returned. Their voices, their calling, crawled back into his memory with an icy touch. He closed his eyes and thought about the squirrels in the trees, about all the busy lives that existed around him, about the sane, normal worlds that millions of people were currently living. He imagined what it might be like to have what they had.

     

* * *

     

    'It doesn't feel right.'

    Will swung his arms around and rolled his neck. 'Get over it.'

    'I don't want to hurt you, Will.'

    'Hurting me is the whole point, Mordred. Don't be shy about it,' he said, put his hands up, knees slightly bent, and stared him down. 'Why don't we settle on a safe word?'

    Mordred tied the last strip of black tape over his knuckles and bit it off, throwing the roll over to their water bottles outside the ring. 'Fine.'

    'How about Cinnamon?'

    'Why Cinnamon?'

    Will rolled his shoulders. 'Maybe you'll find out one day.'

    'Okay,' Mordred said through a breathy chuckle. He came up to him in the centre of the sparring ring. The gym wasn't that busy so they only had a few sounds of heavy hits against bags or huffs from people on weights and cross-training. 'Count of three. One. Two. Th-'

    Will struck out and he jerked out of the way. It gave Will the opportunity to duck under his arm, hook around his waist and throw him up into the air then onto his back. Mordred  hit the ground with a small 'oof' before he jumped back up and they circled each other with fists up.

    They sparred for a bit, Mordred pushing him to the other side of the square ring, then Will punching back until they circled again in the centre. Their breaths were deep and sweat beaded itself along Mordred's skin. The pace picked up. Mordred threw a hit out at Will's face which he ducked to ram a hand into his stomach. He put more space between them to catch his breath.

    'Had enough?' Will huffed with a grin.

    Mordred scoffed, blood pounding in his ears. 'Never.'

    Before Will could dance out of the way Mordred avoided another hit and swung his leg out, swept it under Will's ankles and hopped away from the heavy landing. Will laughed and got back to his feet and dove in for another round, the heat leaving their skin flushed. A few of Mordred's bones and muscles ached from landed punches.

    He was too caught up in the sweat running down Will's neck to realise he'd launched at him. Mordred struck his hands up but Will had jumped around to his back, legs up and locked around his waist, with his neck locked in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed. _Shit fucking shit._ Mordred tried to throw him off. The lack of oxygen made his entire face throb loudly, but when his attempts failed he settled on the last option and jumped back as hard as he could. Will's breath rushed out behind him when they landed with a crack and Mordred elbowed back at him to loosen his grip. The temptation to use magic was growing.

    'Cin-' Mordred choked out. Will's legs had his hips in a vice-grip, elbow unrelenting on his closed off windpipe. _Arsehole_.

    'What was that?' Will said through heavy breaths.

    'Cinna-'

    Will's grip loosened and Mordred coughed.

    'Cinnamon, you bastard,' he wheezed. Will laughed, the vibrations running from his chest into Mordred's back. He rolled out of his grip onto the ground next to him and deepened his breathing to cool the burn in his throat. 

'Visited him yet?'

    Mordred took in three more long breaths and proper himself up onto his elbows. ‘Not yet.’

    'He's okay, though?'

    Mordred concentrated on his racing heartbeat and stared up at the lights and brick ceiling. 'Yeah. From what I've heard.'

    'Good.'

    'Why don't you go see him?'

    'He doesn't need any more complications.'

    ‘Mordred,’ Will said as if using his proper name could pluck the truth out of him, a confession of some sorts. ‘You were friends, weren’t you?’

    'Kind of,' he said. They panted into the quiet sweat-salty air.

Will flipped back onto his feet with a burst of momentum. ‘Well, we've got that meeting with Marten at 9 a.m. sharp. Come on, Cinnamon.'

    Mordred grinned at him as they got up. Just like that the well of anxiety in his stomach was momentarily forgotten. He held the ropes open for Will to duck through and jump down.

    'You like that, huh?’ Will asked, eyebrow raised at his smile. ‘You should see what I'm capable of in the sweet talk department.'

    'Let's just shower.'

    Will kept the ropes open when he climbed out. 'Strip and get wet? Be still my heart.'

    'I swear I'm going to kill you one of these days.'

    'If you're into that kind of thing, I'm game. On a serious note, don't go running into burning buildings without at least telling me first. We're partners, Mordred.'

    'It wasn't burning when I ran into it.’

Will glared at him.

‘I’ll tell you first next time.'

    'Thanks.'

     

 

    Mordred watched Commander Marten calmly, his body still buzzing from the workout. His office was too boring, too plain, for someone who had his eyes and ears in so many dangerous places. Will seemed a little more on edge in the seat next to him as his knee bobbed up and down.

‘There have been rumours about this Katja figure and we've just had a major leak of information from one of the dirtier circles of trade.'

    'A trap?’ Will said and Marten nodded.

    'Probably. You'll still be following it through, though.'

    'Expected as much,’ he said and shot Mordred an entertained look. ‘You like using me as bait.'

    Marten gave a him a smooth, slow smile. 'Only because you have the experience, wits and skill set. It’s a compliment. As for you DC Leir-'

    'What's the leak?’ Mordred asked.

    'I don't want you working on this.’

His calmness grew several uncomfortable spikes and he sat up straighter in the chair.

    'Why?'

    'Several officers have raised concerns about your wellbeing.'

    He scoffed. ’My _wellbeing_?'

    'First at the raid, then at the attempted arrest of Mr Alexander Denton which I did not approve, and again during a stake out last week. Collapsing in pain is not to be taken lightly.'

    'I'm fine, Commander.'

    'I disagree. I’m honestly surprised it took so long for your colleagues to bring it up. You’ve garnered a lot of favour in the last few months and if you want to keep it you will report to Guy's Hospital for a check up tomorrow at 2 p.m. Understood?'

    'Can the Met book doctor's appointments? Shouldn't I just go to my GP-'

    'You apparently don't have one. We looked into that first,’ Commander Marten flat-lined. ‘No exceptions, DC Leir. Until you've been given a clear bill of health you're on desk duty.'

    'You can't be serious,’ he said, the buzz very much obliterated. He looked to Will to back him up. ‘I've spent months on this case.'

    Will saw his look and returned it with something like sympathy, or maybe pity. It was alien and _not_ okay. ‘Hey, maybe it's a good idea.’

    'You beat the shit out of me this morning and I'm fine.'

    'Come on, man.’

  Mordred stopped. He wasn’t a petulant child. He wasn’t about to throw a tantrum in front of his superior and partner.

    ‘Fine,’ he said.

    Marten watched him with narrowed eyes for a second before he nodded. ‘Now that that’s settled, if you could excuse us, detective?’

    Mordred stood up and grabbed his bag. ‘Right. See you later, Will.’

    ‘Yeah. It’s for the best, Mordred. You know it is.’

    ‘Yeah,’ he said and closed the office door. The corridor was bland with smartly dressed officers, secretaries, detectives crossing through it with varying expressions. Mordred stepped into the movement and let it take him to the lift, take him down, take him outside onto the street. He walked up to his Yamaha YBR125 parked in a motorcycle bay at the end of the road. The gunfire, the twisted magic that had pulsed through the flat weeks ago, the fire he'd watch burn it down, it had all seared itself into his memory like everything else. Every detail, every impossible, inhumane scream, coiled up the back of his head with sticky hot fingers. They were right. Something was wrong with him. It wasn’t something a doctor could figure out though and that made him squirm. He wanted to ask Merlin, he wanted to have Morgana with him, _someone_ who could understand. She was dead and Merlin wasn’t— Merlin wasn’t someone he could let back into his life no matter how much he wanted to.

    Mordred groaned and secured his backpack around his arms, pulled on his helmet, and ignited the engine with magic. It felt good to use it, to let the mechanical merge with the magical, to fuse them together in his mind. He kicked up the stand and pulled into the traffic. He’d drive until someone called him back. He’d drive until he could forget for a moment. He’d drive until he didn’t want to beat his knuckles bloody against a punching bag.

 

* * *

     

    Gwen gawked at him when he came out of Kilgharrah's office. 'You tried to be reassigned?'

    'He did what?' Gwaine asked through a mouthful of banana. He'd apparently gone on a health kick after Merlin moved in, not that he needed it. 

    Merlin knew that people talked but the knowledge that he'd had a transferral declined by the head Commissioner was new. He'd put it in for his return a week after waking up and his first day back just _had_ to be when he found out. Kilgharrah had also waited until today to give him the details of the harsh reality they faced, the fact that Arthur's team was dealing with magical murders he had to try and solve while simultaneously covering it's true nature up from the rest of the Met.

    'It doesn't matter,' Merlin said and walked over to his old desk. His mind was trying to process everything and it helped that nothing had been touched. There was the addition of the Get-Well-Soon teddy bear Gwen had bought at Arthur's request, the bear Merlin had refused to take when he was drugged up heavily on something. She'd left it next to his computer screen for when he came back. Merlin looked back up to Gwaine. 'Kilgharrah doesn't have the authority to sign off on it this time.'

    'This time? There's been more than one attempt? Why would you want to leave?' he continued. Arthur hadn't said anything, but he watched them from his desk opposite Merlin's. They hadn't spoken over the phone or even said hello since their second-chances conversation.

    'I think we all need space.'

    'Space? You were in a coma for three months, mate.'

    'I just thought it would makes things easier.'

    Arthur pushed his chair back and stood. 'For who?'

    Merlin looked at him. There was anger in his eyes.

    'You,' he said. The weight in the air was insufferable. He forced a small laugh. 'I'm making something out of nothing, aren't I? We're adults. Anyway, I made the request before I knew about the _unique_ nature of the cases you've been dealing with. Before I knew Old Religion was involved.'

    'When did you make it?' Arthur asked.

    'Does it matter?'

    'I guess not.'

    Gwaine dropped the banana peel in the bin. 'I actually missed this.'

    Merlin frowned at him. 'What?'

    'The intense atmosphere, stares, drama, all the stuff you only get when you put DS Emrys and Pendragon in the same office together. Obviously.'

    'I didn't,' Leon muttered when he came over and dropped an evidence bag on Arthur's desk. Arthur looked at him with expectation. 'The surveillance paid off.'

    'Surveillance?' Merlin asked.

    Leon nodded. 'Mordred helped us track down a magic user. One who was taking advantage of Old Religion's new services.'

    'Drugs,' Merlin filled in.

    'We've had eyes on her the last ten days or so and now we have a chance to see the boss of the whole operation,' Leon explained.

    Arthur folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. 'Explain.'

    'A Christmas party. As far as we can tell it's a networking thing. New and old customers, and patrons, will be celebrating on the 24th.'

    'Christmas Eve.'

    'This Sunday, yeah. It's at a flat near the Barbican.'

    Merlin watched them run through the information. 'What makes you think the leader will be there?'

    Leon shrugged. 'It's all we've got.'

    'We can't raid it. It's too dangerous,' Arthur said as his stare drove into the evidence bag. 'Is it invite only?'

    'Sort of. Percy?'

    'When Leon says we've had eyes on her, he means I've been digging deep for my inner stalker the last two weeks.'

    'Not too hard for you, then?' Gwaine cut in with a grin.

    Percy smiled at him for a second before he composed himself and addressed Arthur. 'It's invite only in one sense. You need to perform magic to get in the door.'

    'I can go,' Merlin said.

    Arthur shook his head. 'It's too soon. You've been in a _coma_ , Merlin.'

    'I'm aware,' he drawled. The stared didn't abate, if anything it grew more defiant. Arthur had apparently rediscovered his old trait of bossiness. It was comforting and annoying. 'Alternatively, I can make it look like one of you have magic. A delayed effect where I give a spell a trigger that you can pull at the door.'

    'You can do that?'

    He shrugged. 'I can try to. It'd be better if I went in.'

    'No,' Arthur said.

    'I've been cleared for duty.'

    'I'm the SIO on this case, Merlin,' he snapped. It was Merlin’s turn to glare now. 'You're invaluable but I can't let you into the field yet.'

    'When can you?'

    'Whenever I think you're ready.'

    'Yes, sire,' he huffed as he sat down on his old desk chair. Arthur's mouth opened again and Gwaine's eyebrows had shot up when Kilgharrah came up to them.

    'Pendragon.'

    Arthur gave him a sharp look before he faced the DCI. ’Sir.'

    'There's been another murder. A boy's body was found in a waiting room at St Pancras.'

    Anger flashed across his face. He stood and pulled on his coat. 'Merlin?'

    'Yeah?'

    Arthur headed for the lift. ‘Are you coming or not? Percival, keep up your surveillance.'

    'Uh, sure,' he said. Merlin caught Percy’s perplexed look and Gwen's mouthing _Percival_ at him in similar confusion. Arthur had already turned around to face the lift, though, and missed his slip up. Merlin chased after him as the lift doors began to close.

     

 

    Everything in the car smelled like Arthur. Merlin's senses were bombarded with it over and over again. When they turned onto John Street Arthur broke the fifteen minute silence he'd managed to maintain with monosyllabic responses.  

    'You're staying with Gwaine?'

    Merlin watched the parked cars and houses pass them through the rain. 'I am.'

    'Your old flat?'

    'Gave my notice. Gaius pointed out that living alone might not be the best thing for me,' he said and dared a side glance at Arthur. His eyes were trained on the road ahead and he turned the wheel smoothly. 'Thanks for paying the rent while I was out. I'll pay you back when I have the funds.'

    'Don't worry about it.'

    'Arthur, we're talking at least £5,000,' he said. The numbers terrified him and a big part of him knew that without Arthur his life would a bigger mess. A bigger, modern, financial mess. With Arthur came the emotional and psychological mess, though. His conscience and morals made him feel a little queasy that he owed so much to him. Owing anyone made him uncomfortable. His aunt had brought him up to believe in making your own way, no spoon-fed nonsense, and Hunith had done the same in Ealdor. Just because they were dead didn't mean he couldn't live up to their memories. 'And that's not counting the hospital bills. The NHS could only have covered so much and I'm pretty sure I don't have any insurance.'

    Arthur flicked on the indicator and they made a left turn. 'Money isn't a problem for me. Why didn't you call me back?'

    Merlin couldn't catch his eyes and the subject change caught him off-guard. 'Who's Mithian?'

    ‘How—'

    'She answered when I called you back yesterday. You were in the shower, apparently,' he said, cheeks heating up a little with embarrassment, shame, anger. He could have sworn he'd gotten an emotional revamp since waking up. Everything felt more intense like it had when he was an eighteen year old with raging hormones. ‘Gwaine filled me in on the rest.'

    'Merlin-'

    'It's alright.'

    'No, it's not,' he said and threw him a strange look. They turned left onto Gray's Inn Road and into heavier traffic. 'Mithian, she's . . . I know her from the past-life. Don't you remember?'

    Merlin turned back to the rain, the cars and strangers. 'How could I forget?’

    'It's a comfort thing. A safe thing. I haven't been with anyone since you-' Arthur paused. Merlin’s heart beat was heavier. He studied the cars waiting at the intersection as they passed. 'Since that night, I haven't been able to even _think_ about being with someone else. Then you woke up and we talked and then she was my blind date. Seeing her is helping me figure things out.'

    Merlin swallowed as the tightness in his chest spread. The question hurt but he had it and he had to know. 'Are you sleeping with her?’

The air was thicker, colder and hotter. Too little and too much. His ears burned with the silence and he didn’t dare look at Arthur.

    'Merlin, it's not like you're faultless, with whatever you and Mordred—‘

    'Don't,' he said. Mordred hadn’t spoken to or visited him. Not _once_. He didn’t even feel their connection anymore. He’d never felt so alone. Now all he could see was the Princess with the Prince in his head. The Barrister with the Detective. It made something bitter, something vile, rise in his thoughts. 'You and I, we're not a couple. We never really were. I just thought your problem with me was our past-life but if you can date Mithian, if that's comfortable and safe for you, it's clearly something else. Your first reaction to the truth was leaving me. That's what proved whether we could work. You never saw it in Camelot, you never— _We_ never— I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that neither of us deserve this drama, this— Whatever it is. Not when people are dying and we can stop it. Fate says we're bound together forever. It never said we had to sleep together.'

    He was a little short of breath when he finished and the stab wound ached in his stomach. He moved his hand down to it, pushed against it, felt the deep branch of pain and closed his eyes. The rain hammered down on the car roof and they rounded onto the main intersection of King's Cross. He pressed his lips together, clenched his teeth together harder, then curled his cold fingers in against his palm until the nails dug too far into his skin. He looked out the window. The windscreen wipers clicked across and back again in the silence.

    'No matter what happens I will protect you-'

    'That's just it, Merlin,' Arthur snapped. 'That's what's so confusing. You should hate me. Part of me— Part of me wishes I had never met you. And _still_ you're willing to die to save me. It doesn't make sense.'

    Merlin closed his eyes when he said that. Like hell was he going to cry in Arthur's car on their way to a murder scene. This was too high school, too soap opera, too real. It was real. This was happening. 

    'It's not that hard to understand,' he said quietly, opened his eyes and saw the redbrick spired building loom up ahead through the dark rain. The heat welled behind his eyes but he reigned it in and snuffed out the pain as best he could. ‘Find somewhere to park. I'll meet you inside.’ 

    He trained his thoughts on blue and white police tape, the cold air that accompanied all the murders, and Vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Burn it Down:  
> -Into Waves by A Little Nothing  
> -Burn it Down by Daughter  
> * * *  
> -Collider by X Ambassadors, Tom Morello  
> -The Fool by Ryn Weavers  
> -The Woods by Hollow Coves  
> -Mercy by IAMX  
> * * *  
> -Funn by Cash+David  
> -Unworthy by Vancouver Sleep Clinic


	5. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that this chapter has some dark themes. Also thank you for your insightful and kind comments! xxx

   He stood outside the waiting room. As he donned the suit and usual precautionary covers to avoid evidence contamination a Uniform updated him. Forensics had swept most of the room but with the public location any evidence of worth was minimal to impossible to isolate. The background buzz of the station was distracting, the eyes pressing in against them, and Merlin asked the remaining forensics team members to give him some time in the room alone. They were reluctant but he had a reputation. Over eighty solid arrests in the last eight months, wounded to protect a fellow officer, and recently returned to duty. It worked in his favour to say the least. He entered and closed the door behind him.

    Once the lock clicked he closed his eyes and tried to feel the webs, see the colours. Eyes open and nothing. No colour, no strings of history and personality filling the room. He walked in further.

    Breath ghosted along his cheek, earlobe, and then heat blew through his lips. Merlin gasped and stepped back. Pressure pillowed itself across his chest, hips, thighs and he fell back, head making an ugly smack noise on the ground. Pain branched up around his skull. He was pinned, head swimming, and hands forced his legs apart. When he tried to call out a warm hand clamped down over her lips. She tried to tell him to stop, but Richard's free hand had pushed his dress up past her hips. The air was cold and invasive, his fingers digging into her thigh. 

    'Shhh,' he puffed against her ear and then her hands were tugged behind her. Her back arched painfully up into him and he bound them together with something soft and thin. Her movements were sluggish and when his fingers hooked into her underwear her stomach wrenched, body filled with sharp sick energy. They were pulled down. He tugged them off her ankles. The cold air swam up against her and her eyes burned when he stuffed the pink cotton into her mouth and she screamed. The fabric caught the sound, twisted into into something strangled in her own head and she screamed again.

    Her vision snapped out of focus and Richard whipped back into the air, mouth agape like a fish, arms striking out, slowed by some kind of resistance in the air. His eyes glazed over, lips turned blue, and his hair floated. The sharp energy spiked and spilled. She cried, scrambled back to her feet and tried to grab his kicking legs, pull him down, but her hands passed through him. He stared down at her with fear in his eyes, gaping, and she tried to grab for him, tried to stop it, but his movements slowed down and his stare locked in place. Brown eyes turned watery, pink, and then they stopped. His body slopped to the ground with a wet slap, soaked and still.

    Merlin jerked back and the cry cut through his chest, stomach, like a fox's scream in the quiet night. Ice cracked through his body and his legs gave way.

    Someone grabbed his arm and swung it up over solid heat. 'Woah! Hey, Merlin?'

    The muffled voice half carried and half led him out of the room, blocked questions from Uniforms, and let him sit down on the ground against the stone wall. Arthur tugged back the white hood, pulled off his mask and lightly slapped his cheeks until he swatted him away.

    'Merlin, what's going on?'

    'I didn't mean to,' he said as things came back into focus. 'She didn't mean to. She had to.'

    'You saw who the killer—‘

    'Arthur,' he breathed as awareness hit him again. St Pancras, crime scene, Arthur crouched down next to him, sensation returning. The white suit crinkled strangely over his clothes as he sat up straighter. 'It was self defence, an accident. Instinct.'

    'We still need to find her. Merlin, are you alright?'

    He flinched away from the gloved hand that reached out to him. 'Don't touch me. Give me a minute.'

    Arthur pulled back instantly, his own mask and hood pulled off to reveal concerned blue eyes. The conversation in the car left his world dull, distant and darker. Like when the voices called out to him. Merlin got up, back resting heavily against the wall. Arthur followed his movements and kept two feet between them.

    'You saw it happen?' he asked quietly.

    ‘No. I experienced it,' Merlin said, slowly stripping the gloves, shoe covers, everything. That terror pulsed through his body and made his movements shake. He'd never experienced a murder like that before, not so viscerally. So _raw_. 'I was her.'

    'Who?'

    'Phoebe,' he snapped. 'Richard, I have no idea what he was doing. In such a public space, the location doesn't make sense unless— It didn't actually happen here and she moved them both here. Maybe she felt safer in a public place. I don't know.'

    'Richard's the name of the victim?'

    'Yeah, he was her boyfriend. He tried to force her, Arthur. Force her to,' he stopped, stomach twisting again. He looked down as he pulled the suit down over his trousers, could feel the way Richard tugged the pink cloth down over his bare legs, and threw the white ball at the black box next to the scene's entrance. 'I know where she is. I can feel her. We need to help her.'

    'Okay,' Arthur said as he tugged off his own suit. 'We just need to get a warrant for her arres-'

    Merlin glared at him. 'Aren't you listening? She didn't mean to hurt him and given what he tried there's no way this can be her fault.'

    Arthur balled up his own covers and dropped them into the box. 'Merlin, she _killed_ him. We need to isolate her. She's dangerous.'

    'Like me? You want to isolate _me_?'

    'Merlin,' he said with a frown, a heavy pause. 'It's not the same.'

    'Isn't it? The only difference is that you were there to stop it when I couldn't. My magic couldn't help me but it _saved_ her,' he said, voice breaking. Almost a year ago but he'd never forgot. Mordred's weight, the pain, the numbing fear. How Arthur burst through the door, hit Mordred, taken him to the hospital. Merlin ran a shaking hand through his hair. 'We're going to _help_ her. Promise me that.'

    Arthur's eyes bored into him for a long second. 'I promise.'

    Merlin didn't know if he was lying, but her fear still cracked through him and he grabbed Arthur's arm and Vanished. 

  They both sucked in cold night air.

    ‘What?' Arthur said, wide eyes taking in the sudden change. It had been morning when they’d left. Merlin's heart raced and he looked around. 'Hanworth House' was carved into the large stone threshold of the entrance to an apartment block seven storeys high. Traffic blared from a main road behind them.

    'Camberwell New Road,' Arthur read out from a street sign across the road just before a bus rushed passed. He looked up at the street lights and the dark night sky. The ground was wet and shone from earlier rain. 'We're still in London. Why is it already dark? It was ten in the blood morning.'

    His blood pounded in his ears. 'That's never happened before.'

    Arthur looked down at his watch. 'Merlin, it's ten to eight. That's almost ten hours missing.'

    He glanced up at him with shock. Merlin knew he shared the expression. 'I don't know. That's not—‘

    'Bloody hell, check your phone,' he said when his mobile pinged again and again and he pulled it out to check. 'Eighteen missed calls. Five missed calls from Leon, texts asking where we are. Two from Kilgharrah. Bloody _Agravaine_ called me, and Mordred. Gwen's asking what's going on. Shit, there was your party—’

    Merlin had zoned out and checked his own phone. A similar onslaught of calls and messages, most of them from Gwaine and Gwen. Most started coming through after 1pm. Their phones and watches read the right time, so they'd experienced it, they just hadn't been aware. He tried to wrap his mind around what could have happened, but magic wasn't science and the interaction of time with magic was beyond him. Reincarnation for one still had him reeling with numb defeat when he gave it too much thought.

    When Merlin looked up the cold cut deeper. 'Phoebe?'

    There was a woman walking away from them and turned left onto another street, but he knew it was her. Arthur followed his gaze.

    'Merlin, what's your plan?'

    'No idea,' he said and started running after her. 'Phoebe!'

    ‘What— Merlin,’ Arthur hissed and followed. The girl ahead stopped long enough for Merlin to catch up and then he saw her eyes glowing that familiar gold. No flash, just a constant and low burn.

    'I'm here to help you. My name's Merlin. I'm like you, see?' he put away the phone and gestured to his hand down at his side where heat whipped up and concentrated itself into physical flames that danced along his palm and fingers in strings and twists of orange light. 

    When Arthur reached him he clamped a hand over the flames. 'What are you doing!? What if someone saw you?'

    'I know what happened, what Richard tried to do to you. Let me help you. Please.'

    'I don't know who you are,' she said and stepped away, a gust of wind bringing one of her long blonde hairs across her face, some strands sticking to her lips.

    'Phoebe, is it? We're detectives with the Metropolitan Police. We'd like to ask you a few questions-'

    Her frown melted into fear. She whipped around and ran.

    'No, no, no,' Merlin rushed and chased after her, fuelling his legs with the anger at Arthur's _way_ too blunt approach. She headed into a park, covered in shadow with the green grass muted into something closer to brown and barren trees shaking in the wind. Warmth coiled down around his thighs, calves, and he sped up to close the distance in three seconds.

    'Merlin! Merlin, slow down!' Arthur called to him. Phoebe darted behind one of the trees and when he dashed around it she was gone. His eyes scanned everything, saw through the darkness, zoomed in on distant figures, but none were her. Arthur was still calling after him. Another second of searching the open park space with no success and he'd caught up.

    'Where is she? Can she do the thing you do?'

    'Vanish?'

    'Yeah.'

    Merlin groaned. 'I don't know, okay? Why did you— How could you think doing that was a good idea?'

    'Doing what? Our jobs? We're detectives before anything else, Merlin.'

    'I know that,' he huffed and spun around to search the far side of the little park where it met another road, a concrete wall, more buildings. 'She was terrified and that didn't help.'

    He turned back to face Arthur. He was gone.

    'Arthur?'

    A heavy thud and groan sounded to his left and Merlin snapped around to see Arthur on the ground, clutching his stomach. Phoebe was next to him, then she brought her arm down with a rush of wind which Arthur rolled away from as earth blew up. She struck out the same arm where he'd gotten to his feet and he was blown backwards twenty feet in the air. Heat rolled out through Merlin's veins. He slowed Arthur's fall and ran after him when Phoebe charged at him with impossible speed. 

    Merlin matched it, feet digging into the grass and bringing up mud. He stepped over Arthur just as she slammed her hands together. The air quaked around Merlin and turned wet and heavy. Then it clicked into place: _Richard had drowned._ His own body now felt weightless, lifted up, Arthur's floating up a little under his legs. Panic kicked in. Magic burned under his skin, pricked up his hairs, and he let out a roar.

    Muffled by the water-air for a second it broke through, shattered the spell, and thundered through the quiet. His throat ached, turned raw, but his yell deepened, shook his body. Phoebe’s body shot backwards, rolled violently with a hard landing as his roar tapered out into a growl and the swollen heat cooled. Merlin's feet stood on solid ground and he gasped in his next breath, body drained of warmth. Phoebe laid motionless ahead in the shadow of one of the park trees and his next breath came out in a grey fog against the closest streetlight.

    _Emrys_.

    Merlin's lids grew heavy.

    _Emrysss_.

    In the shadows he saw light, formless shapes swarm and fall down over Phoebe. He stepped back away from Arthur who stared at him with momentary shock, temple covered in blood. Merlin helped him to his feet, barely feeling his arms in the sudden cold, and needles spread up the back of his head as another voice coasted past his ear.

    _Thank you._

    Arthur grabbed him and pulled him back. Merlin tried to shake him off but then he saw the figure. It was translucent with hollow eyes, vaguely human shaped as it coalesced like mist in the air.

    'You're fucking kidding me,' Arthur breathed. 'Is that—’

    Merlin watched it bow down to him ceremoniously. The motion made his stomach turn, heart beat drum deeper in his chest, and then it disappeared.

    Arthur let him go, looked to where Phoebe had landed and ran to her. Merlin gave the empty air another look before he followed. She was lying on the grass, head lolled to the side, eyes open. His breath escaped him and he stopped. Merlin's heart slowed its race and beat harder instead.

    Arthur knelt down next to her and pressed two fingers against her neck. The wind picked up, cold and moist from the beginnings of rain. He watched Arthur start CPR, tilting her head back, mouth over hers, hands laced and pumping hard onto her chest.

    'Don't touch her,' Merlin whispered, the instinct cold and queasy in his head and chest.

    He stopped his teeth from chattering as Arthur looked back up at him, terrified. 'She's dead. Merlin, she's _dead_. Merlin?' 

    Phoebe's form broke and cracked like dry earth.

    Merlin’s vision blurred. ’Don’t—'

    'She's dead!'

    A shiver ran through him and her body was gone, another chorus of voices called out _Emrys_ , and then the world came back into sharp detail. Arthur was shaking him and for a second Merlin could have sworn he saw the labyrinth walls in the corner of his eye, cracked and vine covered, but then it was all gone. He pushed Arthur away and stared at the grass where her body had been dragged under. It was growing darker and wet with rain with no signs of what had happened. It looked like the rest of the park.

      Arthur’s wild eyes followed his gaze. 'Where is she?'

      'Gone,' Merlin murmured, the cold seeping out at last.

      'Gone where?'

      The panic had set in properly now. 'I don't know.'

      'She was _dead_ ,' Arthur reiterated, the shock having turned his face a deathly pale and made every feature starker. 'Did you kill her?'

      ‘I— It just happened,' Merlin stumbled through the words. She'd attacked Arthur, he'd protected Arthur, then she'd tried to drown them both, and he'd acted. 'She was going to kill you, like she did Richard. I had to, I—'

      'Merlin, this isn't Camelot,' Arthur said, glancing around the empty park for a paranoid moment before he focused back on him. 'You can't just _kill_ people.'

      Merlin saw the accusation in his eyes and it hurt. 'I didn't know that it’d—'

      'You always have a choice! Knock her out, a sleeping spell anything—‘

      'Not always!' he yelled, cheeks hot and the anger back. 'Not when someone's trying to— When you can't think clearly.'

      'Can you handle this, Merlin? First you lose control with Cenred, then you kill Aredian, now this girl. She's barely eighteen for god's sake! You keep hurting or _killing_ them. That’s—’

      'You think hurting people is what I want?' Merlin cut in with disbelief. Arthur was getting his breath back but the air was sticky and cold with their panic, with whatever just happened. 'I became a detective to _help_ , to save lives. I use magic to protect.'

      'Merlin, this,' he said and waved at nothing then gestured to him. Merlin's heart hit harder when he did. 'This isn't _helping_. There are consequences. We're the _police_.'

      'Fuck you.'

      'Merlin, don't react like—‘

      'You're right. When you died in Avalon I _didn’t_ die. I waited for you, Arthur. For _centuries_. I grew old without you, without any of you,' he breathed in to release the pressure in his chest and throat, the heat behind his eyes. 'I couldn't take it anymore and I— I mean I actually killed myself. I did that. I— Maybe I can’t handle this.’

      Arthur's anger grew distant for a moment when he realised, 'That's what you remembered in February? That's why you disappeared.'

      'And then we were all brought back. We find each other again, we get this chance, but it means _nothing_ ,' Merlin continued, close to yelling. He had to get it all out. _No more lies_ Arthur had said. No more _secrets_ is what he'd meant. 'It means nothing because, in spite of everything, you don't want to even _try_ to know me, not really. I've always been there for you, Arthur. _Always_. But when I need you? When I almost lose _everything_ to protect you and the others from Morgause, Aredian, Nimueh— You can only _judge_ me. You act like this heroic, stoic upholder of justice, but only if it follows your rules, your idea of how things should be.'

      'That's what I had to do, what I had to be like to rule in Camelot and it’s what I need as a detective. I thought you understood that and I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings, Merlin, but you've changed. You just _murdered_ a bloody murder suspect,’ he said. Merlin frowned at the comments. _Changed_. They'd all changed, a little and a lot. Arthur had changed too, or maybe he hadn't and that was the problem. 'You used me. You lied to me. You made me a bloody one night stand in your twisted narrative.'

      Merlin wanted to scream at him. 'That's what you think?'

      'Yeah. That's what I think.'

      He shook his head and turned around. Arthur tried to grab his arm but he wrenched away and controlled the flash of heat in his chest.

      'Stay the fuck away from me.'

      Arthur's eyes widened, he pulled back, and Merlin Vanished before he could say anything else. 

      Gwaine's flat. He was in the bathroom already and turned on the light, locked the door, and stripped. His skin was dewy with the wet air of the park, the moment of being submerged in Phoebe's water, and was turning a little pink with the sudden heat of the warm flat. Merlin started the shower and stared at his naked reflection as the water warmed up. He was thinner, hips sharper, collar bone and rib cage more prominent, and paler too. He'd built up his workout regime again but getting back to where he had been would take months.

      His lack of appetite made things worse. His eyes glazed over and he pressed his fingers against his skin, felt the muscle, the bones, the warmth. He hadn't been like this since he was seventeen and that had spiralled quickly enough without the stress of magic, reincarnation, of accidentally, maybe even purposefully, killing a girl to save Arthur’s life. To save his own. The thought sent a cold wave of sickness through him and he swallowed. He was a _killer._ Back then it had just been school, his future, his social awkwardness, his aunt no longer being able to take care of him properly with the financial pressure.

      He climbed into the tub. The water was too hot and when he moved to twist the tap his stab wound twinged. Merlin looked down at the scar above his abdomen and ran his fingers along the skin. When he felt the change in skin he could feel that knife wedged inside him again and the memory of the pain his magic had suppressed bloomed back into life. He let himself cry.

      Steam rose and he sank down to the floor of the bathtub. The shower sent water over his head, face, and back. He pulled his knees up against his chest. Hot water ran into his eyes and he squeezed them shut as his chest heaved and throat ached and the rushing sound washed away his sobs. He hated how pathetic it was but he'd held it in for so long, pressed it all down. Something had broken. Merlin sat there, crying, hot water pouring down, until he couldn't cry anymore and he washed it all off, washed his hair and scrubbed every inch of his body. When he turned the taps off and climbed out he felt warm, clean, and exhausted. Wrapping a towel around his waist he left and headed to his room, ignored Gwaine's surprise and questions, locked the bedroom door and collapsed on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Reflection:  
> -Undone, Undress by Marika Hackman  
> -Homeostasis by Nostalghia  
> -Small Things by James Howard  
> -Love by Lana Del Rey  
> -Kettering by The Antlers  
> -Talk Show Host by Radiohead


	6. Nightmares

     Arthur breathed in the smoke. It was bitter and hot for second before he blew it out over the balcony and disappeared against the dark row of roofs and buildings backs. The wind ran against the left side of his face numbly, threw around his short hair, and he took another drag. The cold no longer made him shiver. His skin was stiff like it had been wrapped up in icy cling-film and had been left to freeze.

      'Do you want to talk about it?' Mithian asked behind him. He could see her silhouette in the light that spilled out from the kitchen across the patio. It merged strangely with the rectangular blocks and angles of the table and chairs between them. Arthur stared forward and held the cigarette between his fingers as he leaned down on the railing.

      'Not really,' he said, hoping she would go back inside. Instead he saw the silhouette grow bulbous and unrecognisable before it disappeared and she stepped up next to him. Her teeth chattered a little and she rubbed her arms under the blanket she'd pulled around her body.

      'It's got you outside in the freezing cold with a cigarette when I've never seen you smoke,' she continued with a pointed look. Smoking was never his vice. The closest he'd come to addiction was endorphins released from exercise, maybe that one weekend in Amsterdam with his rugby team after graduation, but never smoking. It had been an occasional social thing until Merlin didn't wake up after a month. Arthur internally groaned at the realisation that the last year of his life he remembered in relation to a timeline made up entirely of Merlin. He turned to face her.

      'It's the case I'm on,' he said and put the cigarette to his lips again, took in another lungful. 'No matter what I do I can't close it.'

        Her long hair was pulled back into a french plait and her eyes had that brightness in them. The memory of her, of a Mithian maybe a year younger but no more with him in the woods wrapped up in the certainty of a royal wedding on the horizon, filled up her clear face.

      She nodded and offered him a gentle smile. 'I thought your detective skills were invincible.'

      'I'm good but not _that_ good.'

      'What is it really?'

      'Drop it, okay? Please.'

      'Drop what? I'm showing concern for the guy I'm dating. A relationship doesn't have to last for months before you do things like that. Arthur,' she said and ran her hand up his back, the other moving to hold his forearm. Her warmth pressed against him. All he could feel was Merlin pulling away from him. _Stay the fuck away from me._ He'd deserved that. Arthur looked back out at the rooftops and random pattern of lit windows. Merlin made him so _angry_ , frustrated and irritated. He also thrilled him, turned him on, made him feel safe. Even something that felt similar to happiness, if 'happy' were to be run over and put back together again with surprising and unidentifiable objects. 'Hey. Talk to me.'

      'I handled something badly,' he said. Beyond the ever present issue of Merlin there was also Phoebe. There had been those _things_. Things he'd seen before. 'That's all.'

      'Okay. I'm going to sleep. I've got a new case so I probably won't see you much for the next week,' she said, pulled away, and moved out of sight. He heard her close the balcony door and stubbed out the cigarette on the rail, twisted the cinders and ash into the iron, then flicked the butt out into the shadows.

        Moving his fingers up to his temple he felt the stitched-up cut from when Phoebe had snatched him backwards from Merlin and thrown him to the ground like nothing more than a rag doll. Backtrack six years and the thought of going to hospitals for anything other than sports injuries or freak accidents had never crossed his mind. Now it was practically a bi monthly habit.

        Arthur stretched up into the air, let out a long and loud sigh, slapped his thoughts when they dove towards shapes like: _I should go see Merlin. Is he okay? Did he recognise the ghosts as well? How are ghosts even a thing, this is twenty-first century London. What happened to all of that missing time? Why am I with Mithian? Merlin looked so heartbroken when I said those things so maybe I'm wrong._

_Maybe having sex with me really did mean something to him. He's Merlin, how could it not? What if I'm making this all more complicated than it actually is? She doesn't make me feel the way he does. What did Merlin go through when I died? How can I exist if I already died? Is astrology real if magic and reincarnation are? Gwen would never believe me if I told her everything. What would Morgana do if she were here? What would my father say? Should I have my team, my friends, what happened last night?_

      The thoughts trickled through, uncontrollable, as he locked the doors, turned off the lights and climbed into the bed. Merlin hadn't shown up to work. They all knew something was wrong, but he'd chalked it up to the fact Merlin had almost died a few months earlier. He'd told them the magic involved had triggered something in Merlin and they had to give him space, that they'd have to throw the Welcome Back party later on.

        He kept to the far side away from Mithian and closed his eyes against the pit in his stomach. The sickening mix of emotions and thoughts still twisted around with what had happened only four hours earlier, but he had to sleep. He had to shut off from it all.    

 

* * *

 

    'You seriously won't tell me?'

    Will grinned at him as they walked back to his bike. 'Nope.'

    The late night air felt fantastic against his warm showered skin with the blood still pumping from their boxing session. He'd spent his Wednesday being poked, prodded, and questioned by doctors at Guy's hospital, all to no avail. They had no idea what was happening to him. They'd wait to get some blood test results but nothing leapt out, not physically. He'd gotten a referral to see a psychiatrist, a concept he loathed, but if he wanted to keep his job he needed to be cleared. The evening session with Will was what had kept him sane.

    'But we're partners, right?' he said. Being axed out of Kestrel was annoying but having Will run around doing something dangerous that he didn't get to know anything about was worse. 'Feels like I have a right to know.'

    'Think it's unfair, don't you?'

    'Yes.'

    'Poor baby Mordred,' Will said and pouted at him.

    Mordred smacked his arm. 'Will, this is-'

    'Serious? They've already baited me, though, so there's no point getting your knickers in a twist about it.'

    'All this because I had an off moment or two-'

    Will scoffed. 'Your idea of serious seems to distort itself quite a bit. Spoken to Merlin yet?'

    Mordred stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. 'No.'

    'Why?'

    He didn't want to talk about Merlin with Will. It felt rude, disrespectful, awkward. He wanted to forget about that part of himself, wanted Will to know the good parts of him not the unforgivable. 'It's all different. We kind of had this . . . spark. A connection. I don't feel it anymore.'

    'Maybe because you haven't gone to see him. Called him?'

    'We've got a lot of history,' he said and shrugged. Why did the only available parking space have to be four streets away from the gym? 'It makes things more difficult than you think they are. Parts of what we had definitely aren't there anymore.'

    'Ugh, you've gone cryptic. Give the guy a break. He's been unconscious for three months with a life-threatening stab wound. That'll fuck with anyone's mojo.'

    Mordred laughed at Will's language. They shared a look and the mood sank into something more serious.

    'What are we gonna do about the traitor inside Trident?'

    'Put them in the stocks for a few days, a good flogging, then a trial,' Will suggested. 'Need to know who it is first. Any guesses?'

    Mordred shrugged.

    'Helpful, as always,' he said. Mordred stepped out onto the road at the traffic lights, noticing the oncoming car a second too late. Will snatched at his jacket and tugged him back with enough force to make him trip and fall back. Hands supported and steadied him back on the pavement as the car raced past. 'Christ, Leir. Wait for the green man next time.'

    'Shit, sorry,' he huffed and chuckled. The green man showed up on his cue and they crossed. Will's hand was still on his arm, wrapped around the crook of his elbow protectively, and Mordred's smile, flustered breath, stayed longer because of it. He shivered and looked to his left where a girl passed by, her dark hair blowing wildly with a sudden gust and lazy heat rolled through him.

  'Where are you going?' Will asked when he followed her down a side street, forgetting about his bike and Will's hand on his arm.

  'There's something about her,' he said. She had magic. The heat in his limbs told him that much, the symbiosis was obvious, the fundamental attraction strumming between them. He couldn't see her face but he could see her fitting black dress, the high-heels, the pattern of her tights that veiled the pale skin of her slim legs.  

  'Mordred, I don't want to offend you or anything but following a stranger into a club,' Will started but when she passed a bouncer and headed into an unmarked doorway Mordred didn't stop. Fishing out way too much cash he stuffed it into the broad man's hand. Enough for both of them, Will came in behind and Mordred saw her disappear down a turn in a stairwell to the side. The neon lights and music shook the concrete and brick as he headed down two floors.

  'Leir, what the hell are we doing, we still have our gym kit and work tomorrow,' Will yelled into his ear. The music which grew louder when they stepped into huge hall-like room. It was stuffed full with people dancing, barely enough room to move, no real light beside the occasional coloured strobe lighting, glow-in-the-dark body paint, camera flashes and the DJ's platform lighting. Bass quaked through their bodies, the floor, and the girl stopped at the edge of the crowd. She turned around, half her face covered with a mask.

  That's when Mordred noticed most of the people in the room had something covering their faces.

  'A masquerade rave?' Will shouted at him incredulously. 'I guess if we're here we might as well party.'

  He took their bags and headed over to a small cloakroom notch in the far corner and disappeared out of view. When Mordred looked back the girl was standing one foot from him, her bloody lips smiling. She took him by the arms and pulled him back into the mass and the darkness. He felt her magic and his interact through the movement, a shiver up his spine and a buzz in the air. She started dancing. The music was too loud, his ears were aching, he could feel the bass pulse in his teeth, and he started dancing with her too. Her lips spread apart into a smile and then her face was almost against his, her lips sticking a little against his.

  Their legs brushed against each other, swaying, stepping, and she took his hands, moved them to hold her waist, up to her neck.

  His head spun with the pressure of the magic, the music, the heat that crawled stickily down his spine. The song switched, calmer, softer, but the build up was fast. He knew her. She kissed him and he opened his mouth against the heat, the nauseating familiarity, the giddiness. Her hands ran down his shirt and he pulled back, adjusting his eyes to focus on her in the erratic lighting.

  'Morgana,' he breathed. Her smile grew, uneven with the smudged red lipstick, and she carried on dancing against him. Will burst through and was pushed against them both by the jumping that coursed through the crowd with a drop in the beat. He frowned at Mordred, then she took Will's arm and encouraged him to dance as well, a hand stroking against his face which Will didn't pull away from. His skin was flushed with the heat and Mordred regretted not taking his jacket off. It couldn't be Morgana. What the hell was he thinking? When she pushed back against Will Mordred forced himself between the two of them. No way was he going to let some random magic user grind against Will. As if Morgana would ever _grind_. 

  When Will's hands ran up his sides Mordred took in a sharp breath. He thought that'd stop it, but instead Will started dancing with him. They were smushed too close together, pushed into each other by surrounding bodies, and Will leaned into him, _smelled_ him, nose against his neck, and Mordred let himself feel the heat of Will's skin like when they sparred. This was different though. No tape, no mouth guards or gym kit to distract from the intimacy.

  They danced until Will pressed his mouth against his ear and shouted, 'Let's go back to my place.'

  That girl did something to Will with magic. Definitely magic. His heart raced and he looked back for her but she was leaving. He snatched her arm but his hand passed through and she looked back with a red smile, piercing eyes, dark and wild hair.

  _It's alright, Mordred. I'll come back soon._

  Her voice was in his head, crystal clear, soft. Morgana's voice.

  'Wait,' he said, voice drowned out by another bass drop. He couldn't get his next breath in. He'd watched her fall. He'd seen Nimueh drive that blade into her. He'd been to her gravestone at Kensal Green Cemetery. Mordred blacked out, stomach dropping with the falling sensation, and the next thing he knew Will was helping him out of the crowd, then somehow they were sat in his living room in Vauxhall and Will was holding a glass of water out to him.

  'Hey, man. Mordred, you alright?'

  Mordred blinked at the new surroundings, his jacket hung up on the back of the flat door, Will sinking down next to him on the sofa.

  'Where's my bike?'

  'Parked outside,' Will said, watching him with a deep frown. When he pushed the water to him again Mordred accepted and took a large gulp. 'I drove us both here since my place was closer. I think you were drugged. Can't be sure but since you don't remember that I'm more convinced.' 

  Mordred swallowed and put the glass down onto the coffee table. 'What about you? Are you okay?'

  'Me? Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?'

  'Could have sworn you were acting,' he paused, remembered the exploring hands. 'Differently.'

  Will watched him with a small frown. There was concern in his eyes, it made them softer, darker, made Mordred feel like they could see more. 'How?'

  Mordred bit his tongue. Will was going make him say it. He probably had been drugged. That'd be the only explanation for what he thought he saw and heard. Then again the verdict on his mental health was still out on an extended holiday. It had been since his early teens.

  'Your dancing,' he started, waited to see if Will would pick it up and when he didn't added, 'With me.'

  'Just blending in, Leir.'

  He frowned. 'Oh.'

  'It's getting late—‘

  'You sniffed me,' Mordred realised.

  'What?'

  'Did you have to smell me to _blend in_?'

  'You noticed that? Admittedly that was more because I wanted to check if it was you. It was pretty dark,' Will said, confident as ever, glint in his eyes. 'Your cologne, it smells really good. I didn't know if it was you or not, so I—‘

  'Smelled me?'

  'You don't have to put it like that, make it sound weird.'

  Mordred smiled at him until he grinned back. 

  Will's smile stuck and got impossibly wider. 'Mind if I kiss you?'

  'Wouldn't that ruin our dynamic?' Mordred asked before he'd fully processed the question. He swallowed thickly through his suddenly dry throat. He'd heard him correctly, hadn't he?

  'It could,' Will said and shifted closer, their legs against each other and Will's one arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa. 'Can I?'

  Mordred said 'Yeah' before his thoughts could even clarify and then Will pushed his lips against his. It was soft, non-invasive, and then he pulled back, their noses touching. He breathed in the warm air Will exhaled. It was warm, hot, _perfect_.

  'Sorry, need to check something,' Will whispered and pushed Mordred onto his back, crawled over him and kissed him again. This time Mordred's adrenaline spiked when he felt Will's tongue push out, swipe across his bottom lip, and he smiled at the sensation, the way the heat burned just right.

  'Check what?' he mumbled awkwardly through their lips.

  Will didn't pull back when he answered, 'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

  Then he was kissing him again, _very_ French, hot and wet. It was ridiculous. Completely physical, no magic, no weird guilt, no past life flashes, just Will's mouth and face and closed eyes and hot breath. Mordred melted into it, ran his hands through Will's hair, down his back, hips, and when he couldn't breathe anymore broke the kiss.

  'Try me,' he huffed.

  Will smiled and rested down onto him more, their bodies in a slightly uncomfortable position on the sofa. Mordred's hips were at an odd angle and he didn't know where to put his legs but Will didn't seem to care. 

  'I've noticed that whenever I get close to you my stomach does this unpleasant thing. It's horrible and it's officially your fault, Leir. Just had to double check before I put the blame on you.'

  Mordred laughed. 'Thanks.'

  'Well, I'll see you tomorrow?'

  'Yeah,' he said, elated mood dampened by the thought of going. He checked his phone. 2:37 a.m. 'It is getting late.'

  Will climbed back off him and helped him sit up with a warm hand. 'It is, yeah. You're feeling okay? Sorry, shouldn't ask that. You must be after making out with me. Still, want me to go back with you to your place?'

  'No, I'll be okay.'

  'Text me when you get home. Just so I don't have to waste my time worrying over you needlessly.'

  'If you want me to, sure,' Mordred said, smiling at the care, and stood up. He straightened his clothes a little and headed to the door where he looked back at Will. 'Yeah. Bye.'

  'Mordred.'

  'Yeah?'

  Will's smile faltered. 'The doctors said you were okay?'

  'Not completely,' he admitted and pulled on the leather jacket to distract himself from Will's frown.

  'What's wrong?'

  'They don't know. It might be nothing. We'll find out, I guess.'

  'Keep me updated.'

  'I will.'

  'We should do this again,' Will said and scratched the back of his head. 'If you want to.'

  'Definitely.'

  They smiled at each other, clothes ruffled and a little breathless, and then Mordred left. Will gave him a little wave, a sheepish grin, and he headed down the staircase to the front door. Sure enough his Yamaha was parked across from the house and he started the engine with a low roar in the quiet morning air. Mordred pulled on his helmet, kicked up the stand, and pulled out into the road. Confusing was an understatement for what his life had become but he grinned to himself until his cheeks hurt. He had made out with _Will_. Morgana might not be dead. Morgana had kissed him. He might be hallucinating. He couldn't help but feel on top of the world.

 

* * *

 

  Arthur typed up the last paragraph of his latest report on the Old Religion surveillance and the two new names they'd managed to tie to the operation. The network was larger than they'd expected and remarkably careful. Percy and Elyan were working around the clock, Leon and Gwaine swapping in every now and then to talk to sources and accompany the surveillance crew.

  It was well past nine and the office was almost entirely empty. On Fridays most were gone by five. Only Gwaine had stayed behind while the others went out to get a drink and Kilgharrah disappeared to wherever he always went. Arthur had trouble picturing him with a _home_. He didn't even know if he was married or had children, grandchildren. It was too weird. How would that even work?

  A hand waved violently in front of his face. 'Hey, earth to King Arthur!'

  He glared up at Gwaine. 'Don't call me that. Wait. What?'

  Arthur stood up at face him. He'd said _King_ Arthur. That hadn't been in his imagination. It couldn't be a coincidence. Gwaine was Merlin's best friend. They'd gotten into enough trouble back in Camelot. Had he shown Gwaine too? Did Gwaine find out before or after he had?

  'What did you just call me?'

  Gwaine frowned. It was too overtly confused and blasé.

  'Me? Nothing, I was just trying to get your attention. I know you wanted to go to that party with Gwen but I think I'd be a better fit. That's all.'

  'You said _King_ Arthur. Why?'

  'Because,' he drawled out. 'You've been acting like an overlording douche a lot of the time lately. Ever since that stuff with Aredian ended in the summer.'

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. 'You wouldn't be lying to me, would you Gwaine? I am your superior and we've been friends for three years. _Three years_ , Gwaine.'

  'I'll tell you the truth if you let me go with you to the party instead of Gwen.'

  'Why do you even want to go? She's just as good as you if not better and aren't you flying out to spend Christmas with your family?'

  Gwaine folded his arms. 'Honestly?'

  'Please.'

  'Merlin's my best friend and I'm not leaving him alone with the state he's in but as much as I love him I can't reach him. He's been holed up in his room since he came back on Tuesday. At least I think he is since the door is constantly locked, which itself is a stumper cause the door doesn't even have a lock on it, and with his disappearing-reappearing magic act he could be in Tokyo or Sydney or New York for all I know,' he said.

  Arthur nodded as he caught up with the topic shift, trying to put two and two together. Merlin had extended his leave for the rest of the week after what happened on Tuesday night. No one was going to say no, Agravaine was elated (the prick), and Arthur hadn't managed to tell anyone about what had happened or call Merlin to talk about it. They'd all asked about Tuesday, and Arthur told them about the Vanishing, the time-loss, losing Phoebe. Just not that they lost Phoebe in the presence of spirits and that Merlin had killed her saving his life. They'd just lost track of her during a chase as far they knew.

  'Going to a magic drug-ring party would be great fun and the perfect distraction.'

  'Have you asked Gwen?'

  'No.'

  'Ask her. If she says yes I'll let you come instead. Only if you tell me the real reason you called me King Arthur.'

  Gwaine laughed. 'Talk about narcissistic, mate. Maybe I should call you peasant boy instead and give you some humility.'

  'Gwaine.'

  'I've told you the truth. You're a dick. Can't be more honest than that.'

  'Gwaine,' he repeated, softer, looking him in the eyes.

  ' _Narcissistic_ dick. There,' Gwaine said and held his hands up in the air. 'Cards are all on the table.'

  'Fine. I'll update Gwen on the change of plans. I'm sure she'd appreciate spending Christmas Eve with Lancelot,' Arthur said.

  Gwaine scrunched up his face. 'Mate, last time I checked it was just Lance.' 

  'You're sure?' he asked, covering up for his slip with a new point of attack. 

  'Yeah.'

  Gwaine wasn't going to tell him the truth which was a testament to his loyalty to Merlin. Either that or he was reading something into nothing.

  'You'll regret calling me a _narcissistic dick_ later.'

  'I'm okay with that.'

  Arthur smiled at him and packed up his things. 'You haven't seen Merlin at all?'

  'Like I said, just the once when he came out of the bathroom Tuesday night. He looked weird.'

  He pulled on his coat. His casual approach to the topic dropped quickly and he zoned in on Gwaine's face a bit too intensely. 'Weird how?'

  'Mate, I don't want to breach flat mate or best friend confidentiality.'

  'You know how much I care about him,' Arthur said. Gwaine considered it and nodded as they headed towards the lift.

  'He looked sort of dead.'

  'Dead?'

  'More than just tired,' he explained as they stepped into the lift. 'And it looked like he'd been crying. His eyes were all red. I think he just needed the extra time off. It's a lot to go through, you know?'

  Merlin had been crying. Arthur pressed his lips together. _Fuck_. It took _a lot_ to make someone like Merlin cry. Someone who'd been through so much, could do so much, someone so strong. He'd made Merlin cry.

  'Keep trying to talk to him. I'll call him,' Arthur said. They had to talk. The staying away from each other tactic wouldn't last and he knew it. The small daily tugs, the unease in his stomach, the anger. His nightmares. They’d gotten worse. Arthur’s chest tightened and he swallowed thickly. That night with Mithian afterwards, that had been one of the worst yet. Merlin had been saying it, s _tay the fuck away from me_ , and then the ground had fallen away. It fell, the air rushed up, and he tried to reach out him and when they hit the ground he was fine. Camelot’s castle stretched up around him. He was in the courtyard, empty, dark, just the wind whistling through the stone archways and cracks and Merlin bloody body on the ground. He was dying. Arthur had rushed to him, held, him, screamed for help until his throat was croaked out raw, but it wasn’t enough. The skin around Merlin’s face tightened, paled, rotted away into something blue and dead and his eyes had faded away, his lips had turned black, broken, and the _blood._

'You should. I know it's not my business, but you two need to work it out sooner rather than later.’

Arthur took in a sharp breath, the panic still small enough to control, the heat behind his eyes prickling. He quickly wiped his eyes as if he were tired and cleared his throat. It had been a dream. He just wished he could see him, know that Merlin was still Merlin. That he was okay. Maybe talking over the phone would be easier than being stuck in a car or after having committed murder while investigating another murder. Calling would be easier.

  Arthur wasted no time in escaping the lift and headed for the car park. 'Don't be late for the party.'

  'As long as we show two hours after the start time,' Gwaine said. 'Any earlier and they'll sniff us out in an instant.'

  'So nine?'

  'Nine,' Gwaine said with one of his charm-your-socks-off grins and headed off into the Friday night crowds. Arthur couldn't help but picture Merlin alone in his room and felt guilty as he climbed into his car. Mithian had suggested they spend Saturday together since she was spending Christmas was her family back in Dorset, but it had become almost _unbearable_. Not just because he dreamed of Merlin every week, dreams that made her wake him up to stop him from yelling out, but because he had to lie to her. He told her it was from work, it came with the territory. Maybe it was partly true, but it was a lot more.

Whenever he was with her his mind kept running off to thoughts about Camelot, about Merlin. He just wanted to be happy. He wanted to fall in love, to help people, eat good food, lounge around for days, to have sex, to have a successful career, to explore the world. Merlin always showed up in thoughts about all of those things and it drove him crazy. Like right then. He was thinking about Merlin. Arthur groaned and drove a little too fast back to his flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Nightmares:
> 
> -Your Design by Grace Mitchell  
> -Heartbreak Hi by Avec Sans  
> -The Woods by Hollow Coves  
> -Lights by The Prototypes  
> -Reckless - Aquadrop Remix by Sunstars  
> -More Than You Know by Axwell / \ Ingrosso  
> -The Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke  
> -Feel Something by Jaymes Young


	7. Blue Champagne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three weeks are filled with essay deadlines but I'll try to keep updates regular :)

  The hot chocolate burned his tongue. Voices, laughter, filled the air and the lights outside cast everything in an inescapable Christmas glow. Merlin took another gulp of the heat and focused on how it seared his throat, how it _burned_ , how it pricked tears up in his eyes. Central London was a maze, a stuffy and sparkling mess with the present-shopping rush. Through the glass he watched it all, watched them all, the colourless people only lit up by the street lights, the large decorations strung over the street high above. His phone buzzed. Gwaine was calling him. He sighed and drank more chocolate. It was the first thing he'd eaten that day. _Drank_. Either or. It was warm in his stomach and helped keep the cold in his hands at bay as he held onto the cardboard cup. When the vibrations stopped, when Gwaine gave up, the time and date blinked back onto the screen.

  _18:37_

  _Friday 22 December_

  He let his eyelids close and ignored the itchy feeling under his skin. This was the third day he'd actively avoided using magic. There was a pit in his stomach, a cold hand clenched inside his chest, whenever he thought about it.

  'Hi? You're Merlin Emrys, aren't you?'

  Merlin opened his eyes and looked to his side to see a middle-aged man in a suit staring at him. His frown was automatic, not just out of confusion but also defence. The man was well-groomed, salt and pepper dark hair, with an expensive coat. 'I just wanted to say I think you're really brave. What you do, I mean you don't get enough appreciation. The government cuts are ridiculous. You're basically a hero. Thank you. That's all. Thank you and happy Christmas.'

  The stranger gave him a smile, a genuine smile, and Merlin caught a whiff of expensive cologne. Then the man took himself and his coffee back outside. Merlin watched his breath turn to cloud in front of him and he lost view of him in the throngs of people. He settled himself back properly onto the stool and the frown disappeared.

  _You've changed._

_Abomination._

_You keep hurting or killing._

  Fire coursed down his hands, wrists, and Merlin leapt back off the stool.

  ' _Shit_ ,' he hissed, snatched his phone out of the spilled hot chocolate and shook it off as quickly as he could. The crushed cup bounced onto the ground as the brown liquid pooled and ran off the wooden countertop. One of the Starbucks baristas rushed over with napkins and stuffed them into his hands before she began to soak up the hot chocolate.

  'It's alright, sir, if you want another drink it's on the house,' she said. Merlin wiped it off his skin, his phone, dabbed at where it had splashed onto his coat.

  'No, don't worry about it,' he said, voice grittier from the last two days of mostly silence and angry yells into his pillow. It was either that or scaring the fuck out of Gwaine. He'd had to get it out of his system. 'Sorry about-'

  'Really, it's alright. Do you need to run your hands under cold water?'

  _Twisted._

  Merlin couldn't get Arthur's voice out of his head. He flashed a tight smile to the barista and left, hands still stinging from the heat. The wind outside hit his cheeks with ice sheets and he shoved his burning hands deeps into his pockets. His phone vibrated again, the ticklish sensation running against his thigh. In the crowd he felt dazed, by the lights, the cold, the volume of people, the _crush_. He answered the call.

  ' _Hey_ ,' Gwen said. ' _How are you?_ '

  'I'm better.'

  ' _You know the plan for Sunday? I wasn't sure if Arthur told you and Gwaine couldn't reach you so I thought I'd try. Just my luck you answered._ '

  'I'm not allowed to go with you.’

  ' _It's only Arthur and Gwaine going now. Anyway, they still need that delayed magic thing to get in so—'_

  'I'll make sure Gwaine has it in time.'

  ' _Thanks, Merlin. I really do hope you're okay. I'm always here for you, you know._ '

  'Yeah. I know. It's hard, though.'

  ' _Lance and I are going to be spending Christmas together and if you wanted to join us you'd be more than welcome. I don't actually know if you have any family to go see or—_ ‘

  'Thank you, Gwen,' he said, ‘but I’m okay. I’ll see you after Christmas. Hope you and Lancelot have a good time.’

  ‘Lancelo—’

He ended the call as he reached the stairs which led down into Oxford Circus. Central line and then a bus and he’d be back at Gwaine’s flat. His flat. Merlin’s hands ached but the pain was fading and he breathed in the stuffy polluted underground air as heat swarmed against him. He fought through the crowds and concentrated on the pain quickly disappearing, on the tightness in his abdomen where the scar remained, on what he could use to get Gwaine into the Old Religion Christmas Eve party.

 

* * *

 

Merlin ruffled up his hair and checked his reflection in one of the dark windows he passed on the walk-way. He navigated through the empty paths towards the address he'd seen Gwaine note down after a call from Arthur the day before. Giving Gwaine an enchanted lighter was his part of their plan, but beyond that he could do what he wanted. Arthur had the nerve to _forbid_ him from attending. _Prat_. He stopped short of the main walkway and kept to the cool wall. He watched them head in and waited twenty minutes before following.

The distant sound of fountains and running water cooled the quiet night further and the windows of the Barbican flats formed a shining and uniform sequence of lights, lives, strangers moving in their homes. It was an eerie pocket of concrete, privilege, the futuristic dreams of seventies architecture, and the City's modern professionals. Elevated above the city's street level, completely hidden from main roads and passers-by, the whole area breathed secrets, forgotten futures and pasts, and made him walk on edge.

That and the unbearable cold. It was minus two degrees celsius but Merlin could swear it had gone further sub-zero the way the air captured his ghost-like breath and snuck in to assault any bare skin.

Ahead a conspicuous woman waited beside one of the flat complex's doors. The atmosphere, echoing footsteps, far-off water and general onslaught of brick and concrete made it far creepier than necessary. He approached calmly, numb hands tucked inside his useless pockets. She eyed him the whole time, his slight hesitation when he felt something resist his movements for a moment, and cocked her head when he stopped in front of her. It was a magical barrier of some kind, probably similar to the kind they'd used outside Nimueh's main base. This one didn't stop magic, though. His heart beat faster and his blood ran hotter in confirmation. His nerves were balled up tight, painfully. He'd need to use magic. 

'What's the password?' she asked with a glossy smile and crossed arms.

Merlin studied her and stepped closer. 'You realise how cliché that is, right?'

'Show me something new if clichés get under your skin,' she continued.

Gwaine's lighter would have allowed him to warp and control the flame as if he had magic himself. It would have let Arthur take the flame into his own hands and conjure a small illusion with it, not that he'd had the chance to tell him that directly. Gwaine had been forced to relay the information.

The point of the lighter was that simple elemental magic was the natural inclination for most magic-users which helped their covers. But they'd recognise him more easily than those two. Subtlety wouldn't help him.

'Sure,' he said as he breathed in the cold, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the blackness. The sensation of the wind, the frozen air, the quiet. Fear made him shiver. He didn't know what he was doing, he just followed the fear, made sure he didn't step over the line. The line which had warped time.

It started slowly. First the breeze picked up and grew into a soft howl. Second came the odd _splat_ of ice and water. Hail. His magic dug into him, burrowed where he hadn't felt it before. Heat began to sting as it ran through his veins while his skin remained icy in the winter air. A minute of listening, feeling the rise in air pressure, the spreading moisture, and Merlin let it all fall down. 

When he opened his eyes the rain and hail came down in torrents. It was violent. It shocked him as it battered the cement and blew against them in sprinkling, spiking sheets. She stepped past him to look out beyond the walk-way's concrete columns and overhang. The thunder quaked and rippled through the sky, Merlin's chest. It sounded deep, ran up his spine, and he grinned as the heat made way for an unbelievable warmth.

Another clash of the clouds above met with static, the friction rubbing up in his stomach and lightning cut through the dark. White and blinding and gone the next second. Another flash, and when he blinked he saw the branching white-heat of the lightning in the sky and in his mind. The next quake of thunder was older, he felt the ground under his shoes shake and he swallowed with instinctual fear. His smile fell. She watched it for two more minutes until Merlin eased the warmth away to leave a buzz running through his entire body.

'You can go in,' she said with wide eyes, the earlier pretence and aloofness broken by a look of surprise and concern. Her hand lifted up lazily and the door opened. 

Merlin climbed the cool stairwell, heard the door click shut, and followed the sounds of voices and music. He unbuttoned his coat, tugged it off, and handed it to a smartly dressed older man who waited by another closed door. The hallway was empty and Merlin was about to ask where he put people's coats and bags when the man turned the fabric over in his arms and the coat disappeared in a blur of colour.

'I better get that back,' Merlin said, a bit put-off by the magic. He could Vanish himself and another person but had never tried to Vanish clothing or objects. Especially not now. He really didn't know a lot at all about magic. The ancient books only taught him so much and things definitely worked differently now than they had back in Camelot.

'You will,' the man told him with a warm smile. 'Enjoy the party, sir.'

Merlin swallowed his insecurity. He was a Dragonlord, wasn't he? At least he had been one. He was magic, magic was him, and this was a party hosted by Old Religion, with magic users as guests. Maybe it was his lack of exposure to any magic users who weren't corrupt or trying to kill him or his friends that made him uneasy. Then again Phoebe hadn't been corrupt. But the magic had corrupted her. Merlin pressed his lips together at the painful thought and walked inside.

Vapour floated through the corridors, curled out of people's mouths, and Merlin's senses seized at the smell and flavours. He twisted around a group stood chatting into the living room. The air tasted of practically everything he could ever want to taste, even things he'd never known were possible. The heavy strum of music ran through the crowded flat like a drum beat, a heart beat. It added depth, weight, and helped keep timing for the conversations, the movements of the few that danced around him. Flutes of champagne, bottles of beer, wine, an ominous luminescent purple-coloured drink, filled the hands of the guests. They were an incredible mix of ages and styles, from designer formal wear to high-street casual wear, from teenagers to early fifties. 

A hand touched his shoulder. 'Inspiring isn't it?'

Merlin looked at the man who offered him a flute filled with a blue bubbly liquid. 'Food-dye in the champagne?'

Merlin watched him with renewed interest when he felt that odd sense of recognition he'd felt walking into Scotland Yard little over a year before. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties at most, thick eye brows, long face, slanted blue eyes. 

He laughed, smiled with his eyes crinkling, and shook his head. 'It's something I like to call Morpheus. Named after the greek god of dreams. The theory is that it not only lets your inhibitions loosen but also gives you a more colourful world to run into once you're free.'

'So it's spiked?'

'Not at all. It simply enhances the way warlocks like yourself can choose to see the world. I'm sure you know what I mean. Try it,' he insisted. Merlin put the glass to his lips and took a small mouthful. It tasted like champagne, dry, fruity. 'Good?'

'Yeah,' he said and lowered the glass, licked his lips and realised. The soft voice, the face, he knew him. He just couldn't pin down from when exactly. 'What's your name? Are you the caterer for Old Religion's throw downs or?'

He offered his hand and Merlin shook it. 'Nix. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'Merlin,' he said, the lingering hand shake making his skin crawl. The man was standing close, too-close, but with the crowd he couldn't step away. He took a deep breath. 'Nix can't be your real name.'

'Is Merlin yours? A little Arthurian, don't you think?'

He laughed nervously at the reference and took another drink of the blue champagne. 'You have no idea.'

'I feel like I've seen you before,' Nix went on and led him through the living room to the open balcony doors where an unnaturally warm air blew in. Merlin wanted to search the place for Arthur and Gwaine, make sure they weren't in trouble, but Nix had his hand on his back and too much confidence to not be important to Old Religion. He scoured the faces they passed, tried to look past the crowds of people for blonde hair, or Gwaine's conditioned locks, but found nothing. 'Yes, I have. You're with the Metropolitan Police, aren't you?'

They had stepped outside now, air still warm, Merlin's storm gone but melting pieces of hail were scattered the ground. He kept trying to figure it out, running names and faces and events through his head from his time in Camelot. It had been so long ago and the only thing he really recalled was the family he'd had in Camelot, the knights, their worst enemies, Arthur and his fate. _Their_ fate.

'It's alright,' Nix said and put a hand on his arm. It was large, warm and squeezed a little. Merlin narrowed his eyes unintentionally and Nix pulled his hand back. 'You're either here to arrest me or, like the rest of us, you want to understand it all. Understand your powers. With the timing of your entrance I'm going to guess you created the scene just now?'

He looked up into the dark night sky. 

'Why would I arrest you?' Merlin asked and sipped the champagne. He was playing with fire, cover blown, but 'Nix' or whoever he was clearly wanted to trust him. The danger was a good distraction. He didn't want to brood forever. He wasn't the lamenting type. Not anymore.

Nix smiled again, looking at him with relaxed eyes. 'It's mine.'

'What is?'

'Old Religion.'

'Old Religion doesn't have an owner.'

'The new Old Religion does. I know it sounds counter intuitive, but whoever has taken charge previously failed terribly. Misguided, power hungry, murdering,' Nix paused and sighed as heat flushed through Merlin's cheeks. 'In the last few months I've come into my own powers and with my previous experience with drugs I decided to carve out a business. From there I became a figurehead in our community. Working in the shadows has never been of more help than now. I don't control any of them. I offer them help, a safe way to explore and soften their powers.'

'So you're a glorified drug dealer.'

'With a PhD in Chemistry from Cambridge, yes I am. I was a part of the Biological research group but my real joys, music, getting high,' he paused and smiled. 'They clashed with the more conventional career paths at my feet. I understand how these drugs work, Merlin, and I can keep them safe for users. I can create new and better ones with my gift.'

'Should I be impressed?'

'Yes. Why are you here, Merlin? I've confessed enough that you can arrest me right now. This flat is filled with incriminating evidence which I won't destroy if you choose to, but magic is not a crime. It's a gift.'

Merlin watched him. _Alvarr_. He'd led the druid camp where Mordred had found refuge. He'd escaped the dungeons and a death sentence. Now he was testing him. Testing his loyalty.

'Is the business card yours?' he asked.

'I've had a few made,' Alvarr said and reached into his jacket's pocket. He wore a suit too, well made, and Merlin felt his smart casual choice fell a little short in its presence. He frowned at the thought when Alvarr brought out another card and handed it to him. Merlin took it and with the contact the dark spiral in the centre unravelled. Its ink split into smaller lines that shot and curled along the card to form a phone number. 'The number only reveals itself to those of us with magic.'

'I can't let you run a drug ring,' Merlin told him. 'It's our job to stop it.'

'Drugs are the one thing keeping our people sane. I offer alternatives to heroin, cocaine, DMT, LSD, angel dust, and any other kind of addictive and dangerous substance you want to name. I use mine in drinks, like yours right now, and in juices which dilutes the strength and makes them virtually risk-free.'

'Juices? Like smoothies?' Merlin asked, only a second later realising that his blue champagne contained Nix's drugs. His chest didn't seem as tight, and his head was lighter.

'Vaping,' he said and pulled out a vaping machine, took a deep lungful from it and puffed out a large white cloud. As it dispersed the edges crackled with small blue sparks and the white turned purple as it spilled out with his next breath. It blew directly into Merlin's face and when he involuntarily breathed in his hairs stood on end and a fuzzy calm rolled through him.

Merlin blinked, unnerved for a second. 'Wow.'

'While I'd love to talk more with you I have to go say hello to a few people. When you've decided what you want you should give me a call,' he said softly and slipped the machine back into his pocket.

Merlin wanted to give the card back. 'I don't do drugs.'

'I don't mean drugs. Call me so we can talk. About anything you want. I used to be like you. You feel like you're alone. Your sensitivity to the world leaves you exposed. I wanted to hide from it all. I would bury myself in my books, in my degrees, and eventually in drinks. In the end I lost myself in drugs. Anything to escape it. In the end I had never felt so alone. You shouldn't try to ignore what you feel, no matter how excruciating it may be.'

Merlin watched him, the sincerity in his eyes, how his voice trailed off. 'You're not talking about the magic, are you?'

'No, I'm not. Enjoy yourself tonight, Merlin,' he said, gave a small smile, and left him alone outside. Merlin stared at the card for a moment longer before he pushed it into his jean pocket and headed back inside. Why hadn't he arrested him? He should have. That's what they were trying to do, wasn't it? The card, the drugs, were present at all of the crime scenes. But then all the deaths had occurred as a result of _magic_ not Nix. Now he was a murderer too. Magic was the reason for the drugs and Nix's cards, not their deaths, not murder. 

He was a killer. He was the thing he'd grown up dreaming to end.

'Merlin?'

He snapped out of his daze in time to see Arthur storm into him. He pulled him to the corner of the room and pushed him against the wall.

'What in the bloody hell are you doing here?' he hissed.

'You're going to blow my cover,' Merlin whispered back, the sudden proximity making his stomach twist. Over Arthur's shoulder he spotted Gwaine by the kitchen counter chatting up a woman.

'I gave you an order _not_ to come here.'

'Arthur,' he breathed and looked into his eyes but Arthur was distracted by the blue champagne.

'What is that? You shouldn't be drinking here, it’s—'

'Drugged?' he challenged.

When Arthur reached for it Merlin pulled back and downed it all. Arthur grabbed it out of his hand too late and Merlin swallowed the flute-full just as he threw the glass to the ground. Glass broke, a sharp piercing sound, and no one cared. They just stepped over it, added a _crunch_ to the loud music.

‘What—'

'Arthur,' Merlin said, the fuzzy warmth everywhere, spreading. 'I came here to make sure you and Gwaine would be safe. Not to be scolded by you.'

'I told you not to. You disobeyed a direct order from your SIO—‘

'I didn't come here as a detective, Arthur. I came here as your frien— As,' he trailed off frowning. Were they friends? He didn't feel like it was the right word. 'This place is dangerous.'

'I know that,' he whispered a little harshly but the angry expression blinked away.

Merlin couldn't stop the frown as he tried to process what Nix/Alvarr had said, what it meant, what would happen now that Arthur was in front of him after what had happened.

'I'm not leaving until you two leave,' Merlin added as a point of stubbornness and pride.

Arthur stared at him, his pupils a little larger than they should be. He stepped closer until their faces were centimetres apart.

'Arthur,' he whispered in a sort of warning, a question, when he moved closer and his eyes closed. Merlin felt his breath, hot against his skin, his lips. He put his hands up against Arthur's shirt, very aware of their surroundings, but Arthur kissed him anyway. He just pressed his lips against his, once, twice, turned his head the other way and did the same. Dry, soft, warm. Merlin closed his eyes and relaxed his mouth, let his lips part, let Arthur get closer, get _inside_. It was longer, harder, his hand curling up into Arthur's hair, then he pulled away and leaned back into the crook of the two walls. 

'Merlin,' Arthur breathed, eyes still closed, and leaned his forehead against his. 'I just got you back. I don't want to lose you.'

Someone wolf whistled and Merlin pushed him back a little, resting his hands against Arthur's chest. They were at an Old Religion drug-promotion party trying to get information for a murder case. He'd murdered Phoebe and Arthur hadn't told anyone. They'd both lied to their team, the police. Why were they making-out?

Arthur put a hand against his cheek. 'Spend Christmas Day with me.'

Merlin pressed back further from him. ‘Arthur—'

'I won't take no for an answer, Merlin. It'll give us a chance to talk about us. About what happened on Tuesday—‘

'Please don't,' he whispered and looked down into Arthur's grey shirt which his pale hands rested against. The buzz from his magic, from the champagne and the vapour, had left him in a blurry low place which Arthur had kissed with either impeccable or terrible timing. He didn't know if more space was better or worse.

'I want to know you.'

Merlin glared at him. 'And if you don't like me once you do? You said it yourself Tuesday. I'm a killer. I lose control. I used you. Made you a one-night stand.'

The last one croaked out and he saw Arthur wince. The silence between them was suffocating then Arthur's other hand found his and his thumb stroked it.

'You're Merlin. I'm Arthur. We've survived dragons, wars, assassination attempts, and more,' he said, a small assuring smile drifting across his face. His hand moved down to Merlin's neck. It was hot, secure, safe. 'We'll figure it out. We have to.'

'Because it's fate?'

Arthur frowned. 'Fuck fate. We'll figure it out because we care about each other enough to try. What happened wasn't right but the alternatives were worse. I _know—_ I believe you're a good person, Merlin. The only thing that separates killers from heroes is purpose, and that's a fine line. You have a good purpose. That's all that matters to me.'

Merlin watched him, soaked in the blue of his eyes, the way his pink lips were redder from the kiss, the way he smelled of aftershave. He wanted to curl up and fade away but Arthur was there, was with him. Gwaine had refused to go back to Ireland so he'd expected to spend the day with him. Either way he wasn't going to be alone. He couldn't Vanish away if he wanted to, not without risking losing time again. With Nix's number in his pocket, Phoebe's blood on his hands, and what he couldn't deny anymore as spirits, ghosts, showing up and _thanking_ him, he couldn't hide anymore.

'Okay.'

Arthur smiled, kissed his cheek, and stepped away to join a few people crowded around the sofa who played around with small incantations, making vapour dance through the air to form faces and animals. A snake, a wolf, a raven, then the large form of a snow leopard which stalked through the crowds in white and grey bursts of vapour.

Merlin let out a breath, cheeks hot with the public display and confusion, and caught Alvarr/Nix watching him. The man leaned against the kitchen island, unsmiling but with that strange intimate warmth in his eyes as a woman with long strawberry-blonde hair chatted beside him. At the other end of the kitchen Gwaine was chugging a fluorescent orange drink and Merlin rushed over to stop him. As he moved Alvarr's eyes followed him and hot air ghosted across the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Blue Champagne:  
> -Happiness - Single Mix by IAMX  
> -Gógó by Kúra  
> -Angel - 2006 Digital Remaster by Massive Attack  
> -Between Two Points - St.Andrew Remix by The Glitch Mob and St.Andrew  
> -Midnight City by M83  
> -Amenamy by Purity Ring  
> -Love Me Better (feat. Ariel Beesley) by Love Thy Brother and Ariel Beesley  
> -Wild Eyes by Broiler and RAVVEL  
> -Night of the Hunter by Thirty Seconds To Mars


	8. Golden Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So winter and the Christmas spirit have hit London hard and everything's sparkly and cold. I should be able to update the next chapter next weekend so you won't have to wait too long!  
> As ever, thank you for reading and commenting x x x

Arthur woke up on a hard floor. He blinked against the light and stared up at a white ceiling.

'I don't think I've ever been this hungover.'

Someone groaned beside him. 'What?'

'Hungover. Never been this bad,' he said and looked to his right. 'Gwaine?'

Another groan and a hand came down to hit him in the stomach. 'Shut up. I'm sleeping.'

Arthur propped himself up onto his elbows. They were in his kitchen with a cold breeze coming in through the balcony doors. How had they gotten there? With slow, measured movements, he got up to his bare feet, another question, and held his breath against a wave of nausea.

'Where's Merlin?'

'Over here.'

Arthur followed the voice down to his living room where he found him curled up on the one end of the sofa, a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, and a book in his lap rested against his knees. His smile was automatic when he took it in. 

'Merry Christmas,' Arthur said and carefully walked around to sink into one of the cushions. Merlin was wearing jogging trousers and a hoodie which dwarfed his frame. 'Where'd you find those?'

'The trousers were at the bottom of your wardrobe. Must have left them behind when I moved out. Hoodie is yours, though. I didn't want to take anything of yours but the cold was a bit much.'

'Why didn't you close the doors?'

Merlin frowned then smiled. 'Oh.'

Arthur laughed and Gwaine groaned again back in the kitchen. 'How did we get here?'

'I brought you,' Merlin said and closed the book. It was Financial Risk and Management, a book he'd gotten hold of two years earlier to keep on top of his father's business and involvement with investors. Uther had left the entirety of the Pendragon estate and money to him and Morgana in his will, but several lawyers had wrangled it so everything was left in Arthur's name. The book had become essential for reasons he wished it hadn't as a result. 'Arthur?'

'Sorry,' he said. The book was now on the table and the tea in Merlin's hands. 'What were you saying?'

'Just that I'm glad you two didn't turn into anything unseemly with what you drank and smoked.'

Arthur tried to recall the evening, but after he'd kissed Merlin everything blurred. 'I didn't drink anything.'

'Not that you can remember,' Merlin said smiling.

'The night wasn't entirely helpful.'

'I disagree. I met the guy running the whole thing.'

'You did?'

'Yeah, but let's leave it until we go back to work, yeah? It's Christmas and I got you a present.'

Arthur looked at him surprised. 'Why? The last time we spoke you wanted me to stay away from you. I said some unbelievably shitty things.'

'True. I guess I could just keep it to myself.'

'And all the shops are closed.'

'I didn't go to any shops.'

'Then how did you get me a present?'

'Magic, obviously.'

'What is it?'

Merlin put the tea down and his expression fell a little.

'What is it, Merlin?’

'I just,' he paused. 'It doesn't matter. Give me your hand.'

Arthur moved his right hand, the one that hadn't been broken by Alexander Denton, towards him and Merlin took it, keeping it faced down. He slid one of his cold hands so they were connected palm against palm. The other covered the top of Arthur's hand and when he was about to ask what he was doing Merlin's eyes flared gold. A sudden pressure built around him, and his hand felt pressed with unnatural force.

'Merlin, what are you—‘

'Shh.'

Arthur watched with mild horror as Merlin's eyes flared and the pressure coiled around his fingers and his middle finger. It tightened, shrank down, and while he couldn't see his own hand he could feel something snake around the finger, something hot and hard. It was a surreal and unnerving moment. The hardness stuck itself around his skin, locked in, and then Merlin's eyes dimmed back to their soft blue.

Merlin pulled his own hands back and revealed a ring which had moulded around his middle finger. It was a smooth band of gold with a fine pattern of leaves etched across its surface. Arthur moved his hand closer, examined the ring, twisted it around his finger.

'For if I'm ever not there to protect you. I didn't have a lot of time to prepare it so it'll only work the once but with a few more months I can strengthen the enchantment and it should last longer.'

Arthur looked back up to him. 'What do you mean?'

'If someone, or something, tries to hurt you this will protect you. It should anyway,' he said, eyeing the ring. 'It doesn't make you invincible, if you get shot you'll bleed, but you won't die.'

'Wow,' Arthur murmured. He stroked his thumb across the metal, trying to wrap it around his head. Merlin had given him a magical ring that could save his life. Merlin had given him a ring. His body grew warmer. 'I don't know what to say.'

Merlin smiled at him and took his tea again. Arthur hadn't gotten Merlin a present. _Shit_. He'd given him a gun last year, honestly not the brightest or most romantic idea he'd had. This year he hadn't even expected Merlin to be awake for it. It had left him in a dark place, then they'd fought, Mithian became a distraction, people started using magic to kill.

'Hang on,' he said and shot up, heading to his bedroom. His stomach twisted when he ducked under the bed and pulled out the old shoe box. It was a stupid idea. Merlin would find it weird, too forward, _wrong_. He might regret giving it to him. With the lid off Arthur shifted around the random stubs, receipts, old concert tickets, sea shells and random foreign coins. He hadn't put anything in the box since his first year at university. Not until his father died last year. That's when he'd added the family heirloom.

Once he'd grabbed it, pushed the box back under, and walked into the living room Gwaine was up rifling through the fridge while Merlin put his mug into the dishwasher.

'Arthur, why is your fridge so depressing?' Gwaine asked. 'There's no way you eat take away all the time.'

Arthur gave him a stern look. 'It's called a balance of junk food, exercise, protein shakes and eating around Gwen and Leon's most of the time.'

'Ah,' Gwaine said and shut the door. He opened the cupboard above the knife block before Arthur could chase him off. 'Woah. What you lack in food you've more than made up in the alcohol department.'

Heat flushed through him and he glanced to Merlin but he was thankfully still figuring out how to turn the dishwasher on. 'Gwaine, stop going through my cupboards.' 

'We've got to leave for Leon's now anyway. I bet his place is properly stocked.'

Arthur smiled at him then moved over to the sink, tapping the cupboard shut. 'Merlin?'

He put the mug onto the rack and looked up. 'Hm?'

'Come over here for a sec?'

Taking his arm he led him over to the now closed balcony doors. He still held it clutched in his fist but realised Gwaine was stood watching them.

'Gwaine, could you give us a moment?' Arthur asked as politely as he could.

'You're not going to kill each other while I'm gone?'

'No, but I might kill you if you don't bugger off right now.'

'I'll just take my water and wait by the front door like a good little third wheel, shall I?'

Arthur smiled at him before he padded out of view.

'I think you threw your shoes out the window,' Merlin said.

Arthur turned back to him. 'Huh?'

'If you were wondering where they were. You told me not to get them for you but we could probably look around for a bit and see if they're still out on the street.'

'What? No, I'll just buy new ones,' Arthur said a little confused and flustered. He took a deep breath and glanced at the ring Merlin had made for him. 'I have a present for you too.'

'You do?'

'Uh, I'm not sure how to give it to you so just close your eyes,' he said. He had to do it in a way that would make it harder for Merlin to say no. 'Please?'

Merlin seemed a bit confused, mildly entertained, and closed his eyes. The second he had Arthur reached out, took Merlin's hand and lifted it up into the air. He pushed the Pendragon signet ring onto Merlin's left index finger. It was little loose but fit snugly enough not to fall off. The gold was aged, a little scratched, with a dragon carved onto its widest part.

Merlin pulled back and opened his eyes again, guarded. There was a beat of silence as he stared at it, then stared at Arthur.

'Arthur, just because I made you that ring doesn't mean—'

'No. You should have this. It's an heirloom, passed down through the generations, whatever that means with reincarnation involved. I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be a Pendragon, if it weren't for you, Merlin,' he said, too aware of the tension between them. 'It feels right that you should wear it. It's mine to use however I wish and I've decided to give it to you.'

Merlin wasn't smiling but he wasn't angry either. His expression read closer to concerned and questioning. 'Are you sure?'

'It's yours. It represents a lot of things but for now I hope it shows how important you are to me. How important you'll always be.'

A grin snuck onto his face. 'Stop with all the chivalrous talk or you'll make me blush.'

'I like seeing you blush,' Arthur said.

'Yeah? Well, I like seeing you,' Merlin paused and frowned.

‘Seeing me what?'

'I guess that's it. I just like seeing you,' he finished with an awkward smile. 'We need to go.'

'I need shoes.'

'Go get some, then,' Merlin said and headed over to where Gwaine was playing on his iPhone.

'Idiot,' Arthur called out to him.

He looked back, grinning. 'Dollop-head.' 

 

* * *

 

The drive from Cranley Gardens to Russell Road was peaceful with all roads eerily empty. A stillness and calm had swept through London with a comforting suspension of its usual hustle. Merlin huddled into himself in the backseat, hands tucked into the sleeves of Arthur's hoodie, and watched Gwaine mess around with Arthur's radio. 

Seven minutes with no real traffic and they pulled up in front of number 21, parked across the road, and stepped out into the weak morning light that struggled to get through a thick smattering of clouds. Large trees twisted up towards the sky along both sides of the road and gave the three storied face of the houses an intimidating presence.

'How can Leon afford to live here?' Merlin asked. His brief adventure to Notting Hill had been given out of chance and luck. Since Arthur had covered his rent and hospital payments he'd become acutely aware of the class divide between them and hadn't expected anyone to come so close to Arthur's financial position.

'Investing I think,' Gwaine said with a shrug. 'Personally, I wouldn't give up the gentrified gritty roots of Shoreditch for all the prim and proper houses of the world.'

They headed up the concrete stairs and Arthur rang the bell. Merlin kept towards the back. Those two had lost themselves last night and he hadn't seen Alvarr/Nix again. They gained nothing valuable beyond what Merlin had learned. What he hadn't told Arthur or Gwaine. They gained nothing case related at least. He and Arthur had shared a moment, an important one, which Arthur apparently didn't even remember. Merlin pushed it to the back of his mind.

'Hey guys, come on in,' Leon welcomed when he opened the painted red door. 'I've just put the duck in but there's plenty left to do. Percy's doing the carrots.'

Merlin smiled at the domestic conversation and slipped his shoes off in the foyer. His mouth watered at the smell of the food and he took in Leon's flat with wide eyes. Light wooden floors, white walls, white furniture, spotlighting, and a general orangey light brown colour scheme running through everything. Stepping into the living room he saw a towering old grandfather clock and a white marble mantlepiece with a sketched art piece hanging above. The Christmas tree towered next to the windows, lit up with multi-coloured fairy lights. Gold and red baubles and stars hung off its branches while the star at the top glowed with a white-gold light. 

Leon put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. 'Merlin, you want to do the parsnips?'

'Maybe in a few, Leon, there's not enough space,' Percy called over to them over his shoulder. Merlin grinned at the apron tied around Percy's solid trunk of a body, the bow at his lower back contrasting fantastically with his exposed and muscled arms. The counter was filled with oven trays and bags of vegetables and seasonings and the oven hummed lowly in the background.

'Ah, well, for now make yourselves comfortable,' Leon said. 'And Merry Christmas.'

Gwaine walked up to his other side and glanced at Merlin's mouth. 'What's so funny?'

'Everything,' Merlin said, the smile starting to hurt a little. 'This is amazing. Thanks for letting me come over, Leon.'

The curly haired ex-knight stood up from pulling out a saucepan. 'You're always welcome here, Merlin. You know that.'

He nodded, ran his finger across the grooved face of the ring Arthur had given him, and went over to the in-built bookcase to read the titles. Gwaine scoffed and walked over to the kitchen area.

'You alright?' Arthur asked as he came to stand beside him, eyes on the books. 

Merlin watched him, how his eyes scanned across their spines. 'I love how normal it all feels, how happy it is.'

'I'm glad you came,' Arthur said and brushed his hand against his. Heat flushed through him, the kiss, the arguments, the summer. It was too much. When Arthur held his hand he let him. He let the heat of Arthur's skin fight against his own coldness while his chest tightened with that strange initial spark he'd felt after the spilled coffee.

'Things change,' Merlin said, softly enough that only they could hear while the others laughed in the kitchen area. 'We have to accept it. We have to know that it's alright.'

Arthur was staring at him again. 'You're beautiful.'

Merlin's skin flushed and he faced him.

'I've always thought so, even when you were a manservant and I was your prince,' he said, squeezed his hand lightly and faced the bookcase again. Their single point of connection was not enough and too much at the same time. Merlin stared at the books and listened with warm ears.

His head was back there in Arthur's bedroom. He was beyond confused by the mix of emotions running through him. He wanted to walk away, to ignore him, and he wanted to kiss him, to have sex, to be _closer_. He wanted to be friends, to be partners, even to be Arthur's manservant again and wake him up in the morning, go on hunts with him. He wanted to forget all about him.

'And I don't just mean physically,' Arthur continued. 'I know you've done bad things, I know you've kept things from me, but I can't stop thinking about you. Every time I wake up there's this moment where I hope I'll see you there with me. We used to spend almost every day together in Camelot and I miss it. I miss you.'

Merlin's stomach twisted in spite of the warm fuzziness. 'You have a girlfriend, Arthur. To say you're giving me mixed signals is putting it lightly. We keep going back and forth. One day we hate each other and the next we love each other. What does that mean?'

They fell into another silence and then Arthur squeezed his hand again. 'I think I'm going to break up with Mithian. You make be a better man, Merlin, and even if we fight, even if we can't see eye to eye on everything, I need you. I—'

'Oi!'

Arthur stopped and Merlin blinked his world back into focus. He _thought_ he was going to break up with Mithian? What did that even mean? _Nothing_ or _enough_?

'If you two are done staring at books there are parsnips and Brussels sprouts waiting for you,' Gwaine said in a motherly tone. Merlin cleared his throat and pulled his hand back.

'Let's continue this later, yeah?' he whispered into Arthur's ear then walked across the room, behind the large white sofa to join the other three in the growing mess of a kitchen. It was far too small to prepare a meal for five men but Leon had started using a tall wooden chest as a makeshift kitchen island. Arthur lingered by the bookcase and large windows for a minute longer before he joined. Merlin washed his hands then coated the chopped parsnips in vegetable oil and maple syrup. He sprinkled over thyme, salt, pepper, and mixed the stickiness around the baking tray.

Gwaine had been chopping potatoes with Percy when he came and stood next to Merlin by the chest-turned-work surface. 'Merlin.'

'Yes, Gwaine?'

Gwaine leaned in closer and Merlin paused his seasoning. 'Have you thought about maybe telling them? Or at least Arthur?'

'Telling who what?' he asked, frowning. No way was he bringing it up there and then.

'The team, our team, about how we've met before in a distant and far away land called Camelo—'

He elbowed Gwaine in the side. 'You know I have thought about it and you know I _can't_. We've been through this.'

Arthur shot him a curious glance. Merlin smiled at him falsely before glaring at his flatmate.

'It's only a matter of time and it might be better to air all of this stuff now, before things get even more dangerous. If they can believe in magic they'll believe you when you tell them about reincarnation. I did,' Gwaine whispered, the sizzling of meat, the oven and the extractor fan all helping to conceal their conversation. Merlin had way too much on his mind to deal with this as well.

'It's not that simple, Gwaine—'

'Hope you two aren't conspiring to poison the food,' Leon burst in with a grin as he popped his head over their shoulders to look down at the parsnips.

'No,' they said simultaneously. Merlin narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. 

'Right.' Leon frowned before he grabbed two bottles of wine from the rack next to the fridge and left the room.

'Great, now we look suspicious,' Merlin hissed. Gwaine scoffed and turned back around to help carry glasses to the dining room while Arthur fried the bacon. With careful guidance from Percy Arthur had the sprouts ready in minutes and was distracted enough not question his and Gwaine's overt conversation.

By 1 p.m. the Christmas Dinner was done. Rain cast white streaks against the window panes. They faced out onto a large square of grass with a tree that stretched up higher than the buildings and rustled with the breeze.

Merlin was overly aware of how Arthur kept close to him, their arms brushing as they set out the plates and steaming dishes.

It was an airy, cosy room and once they'd all taken their seats Leon lifted his glass of red wine with Arthur, Gwaine his beer, and Percy his gin and tonic. Merlin picked up his own wine.

'To the family we choose,' he said, resting his gaze into them all, 'and the bonds that can never be broken.'

Gwaine coughed out, 'Sap.'

Leon smiled at him. 'You know what they say, Gwaine. Love don't die.'

Percy laughed and started clinking his glass against everyone else's. 'Cheers. It's been a crazy year. At this point I think we can handle anything.'

'Cheers,' Arthur said. Merlin knocked his own glass against theirs and took a generous gulp of the wine. Leon sat at the head of the rectangular table with Gwaine and Percy together on the one side, Merlin with Arthur on the side that faced the window. Merlin couldn't stop grinning as Leon cut into the meats on his right and served them all. He'd abandoned the hoodie in the living room. His burgundy jumper was enough to keep him warm for once.

'This went surprisingly well,' Percy said while he spooned out some bread sauce from its glass jar. Merlin speared a roast potato and bit down into it. Heat hit his mouth first, a _crunch_ between his teeth, then they met soft mush. His appetite hadn't come back since waking up and eating the food felt more like obligation, ritual, something to do to if he wanted to feel like them, feel close to them. There was a moment of silence, chewing, settling in to the meal, then Arthur hummed in agreement through a mouthful of parsnips.

'Only because you made sure we didn't mess it up,' he said once he'd swallowed, smiled, and cut into his duck.

_Emrys_.

Merlin swallowed as the cold spindled up the back of his neck. He looked around the room and tried to listen to what they were saying as they ate, drank, laughed. Another voice had said his name and none of them had responded. His hands and feet grew cold as adrenaline and instinct kicked in.

'What do you think, Merlin?' Gwaine asked.

He focused back on the conversation. 'About what?'

Gwaine nodded to him with a satisfied grin. 'Told you he wasn't listening.'

'Shut up,' Arthur said with a smile and turned to him. 'We were just guessing at whether or not Gwaine would actually start playing at that pub in Angel.'

'Oh,' Merlin nodded, frowned, and looked at the Irishman. 'Playing what?'

'Guitar,' Gwaine said a little reluctantly. 'It's not something I go on about and these sods only know about it cause we've slogged it through the trenches together for three years now.'

'I had no idea,' Merlin realised and his high spirits dropped heavily and fast. The rainfall outside was harsher, louder, and the green blurred a little with the grey.

'Not your fault. I never told you and I fell out of love with the music scene before you even showed up at the Yard. Percy here started badgering me about it while you were, uh-'

'Indisposed,' Leon offered.

'Yeah, and only cause the pillock thinks he can play drums.'

'I can,' Percy said and bit off two sprouts from his silver fork.

Merlin smiled at them both. 'You want to start a band?'

'Woah, slow down,' Gwaine said.

'I've got connections, you know,' Leon slipped in and drank more wine.

'Do you now?' Gwaine challenged.

_Emrys_.

Merlin's smile faltered and he put down his fork as nausea washed through him. Rain struck the window panes and thunder rolled through clouds above the building.

'For once I wish we'd get snow instead of rain,' Gwaine complained and craned his neck back to look at the turn in weather. 'We deserve a white Christmas.'

'We've had really stormy weather the last month,' Percy noted. 'Might be a side effect of there being more people who have magic?'

'Hey, no shop talk,' Arthur said. 'Gwaine's just trying to divert the conversation away from his future profession as a guitar playing Irish hipster.'

Merlin glanced to Arthur who still hadn't heard the voice. He was smiling lightly and watching Gwaine, Percy and Leon as they talked.

_Emrys_.

Merlin let out a long, cold breath and stood up. 

He backed away from the table.

The voice was hollow, sad, and ran deep within his body. It went as deep as his bones, _into_ them, made them ache like they had when he was little.

He couldn't see the tree outside anymore. The soft golden light of the room dimmed and broke down into an ashy haze as if iron filings had blown into the air and cut through the light. This couldn't be happening.

'Merlin?' Leon asked before another chorus called out _Emrys_. His name dilated and twisted in on itself in pitch, volume, until it grated out into nothing more than a breath that filled his ears. He'd stepped out from the chair, behind Arthur, stumbled to the door, then they screamed out his name.

He heard the others distantly react to something, his gaze too unclear to realise what. The door frame blurred, the hallway beyond a mix of smudges of murky colour. The air around him hardened to the point where breathing hurt, ice cut him from the inside, the wind moaned in tune to the voices, and then it was in front of him. Hollow sunken eyes, barely corporeal, skin stretched across bone that was shaded an impossible bluish white.

_Emrys, what have you done? How were you able to tear the veil?_

A hand came up to his face, long and thin, and when it touched his cheek he heard them all. Hundreds of voices sounding from every direction. He heard his own, the word _deal_ echoing through the mesh of unintelligible whispers, and saw the tear in Camelot, a tear between worlds.

She took in a low sharp breath and the cold burned through his skin, deep into his skull, his gums and teeth.

_Your life should have been mine and yet here you stand._

Merlin couldn't look away from her blue eyes.

_You cannot break the laws of nature, Emrys. The consequences are severe._

Something moved sharply on the other side of her, someone reaching towards him, and then she let out a sigh and passed through him as a flurry of smoke and shadow.

Everything tipped at a strange angle and he fell heavily into a body that grabbed and supported him, brought him to one of the chairs. Everything was numb and blurred. He couldn't move or support himself.

'Lin? Can—'

'Do?'

'Blank—'

'Shouldn't have—'

'Think this has anything—'

'About?'

'Saw something— Believe me if I told—'

'Pital?'

'Extreme, he just needs—'

'Up. Can you hear—'

His head rested limply against someone's shoulder, body limp. Thoughts were sluggish but came together through the cracks in their conversation. He'd made a deal with the things calling out his name. _The Dorocha_. He'd released them. It was all too similar to what they'd battled in Camelot to be anything else. Lancelot had given his life to end it. Panic charged through him and his eyes burned.

'Merlin?' Arthur's voice came through clearly. He was the one holding him up on the chair. 'We've got to move him somewhere else.'

'We need to know what's wrong with him first,' Percy argued.

He wanted to say something but couldn't. Arthur supported his head, sought out his eyes, and all he could do was stare blankly. Everything was numb, cold, as if his body wasn't really his. He could barely feel the touch. He was beyond shivering, and his heartbeat was slow, dangerously slow.

'Is this like what happened before?' he asked him quietly. 'Your reaction, I couldn't see anything but I did see something Tuesday night. They're spirits, aren't they? One was here. Merlin, I don't know how to help you. I don't know what it's done to you.'

'This has happened before?' Leon asked.

Arthur flinched and looked up to his friend. 'It's a long story. We need to lie him down and keep him warm. We have to get Kilgharrah. He'll know what to do. Give me a hand, Percy.'

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's chest and waist while Percy lifted his legs. It was humiliating, terrifying, unfair. It was Christmas, he had been happy, and he'd spoiled it for them all.

When the two of them lifted him up into the air Merlin's head lolled forward uselessly against his chest. They carried him into Leon's bedroom and laid him down on the bed once Leon had thrown the duvet out of the way. Each movement, the contact with the mattress, pillow and sheets, were distant.

'I'll stay here with him,' Leon offered. 'You three should get whatever help you can.'

Arthur bent over him, pulled the duvet over and tucked it around him. He could barely blink when Arthur leaned in to his face and stroked his hair. His calm, stony expression crumbled with a deep frown and downturned lips.

'I'll stop this,' he whispered. 'I won't let anything happen to you.'

Merlin wanted to tell him that it was his own fault, that he wasn't sure if it could be stopped, that _anything_ had already happened long before they'd even seen each other in the hospital. He wanted to beg him not to leave him there and tell him they were safer together. That he'd be fine in a few minutes.

'Don't leave him alone in this room and call if anything changes,' Arthur ordered as he stepped away and then he was gone. Out of the corner of his eye Merlin watched Gwaine and Percy leave too. Leon threw an extra quilt over him and sat on the other side of the bed.

'Magic really never gets boring, does it?' Leon muttered darkly and pulled his legs up, shifting the weight on the bed.

Merlin's eyes were stuck with a limited world view, mostly ceiling, so he closed them. Barely able to feel his own body and not seeing the world made it feel like he wasn't even there. He had no body. The cold seeped into his thoughts until they froze over and time stopped. Everything was gone. He was gone. Arthur was gone. The world was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Golden Light:  
> -Ho Ho Ho by Sia  
> -Winter Song by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson  
> -Friends by Ed Sheehan  
> -Got To My Head by WATERS  
> -Cough Syrup - Alt Radio Edit by Young the Giant  
> -Don’t Delete the Kisses - Recorded at Strongroom Studios, London by Wolf Alice  
> -First Apparition - From “Macbeth” Soundtrack by Jed Kurzal  
> -Carol of the Bells by George Winston


	9. Flicker

They'd barely driven ten minutes before Gwaine pulled out his phone to answer a call in the backseat. Kilgharrah hadn't answered their calls which made Arthur drive that much faster.

'Tell me it's Kilgharrah,' Percy said but Gwaine shook his head and put his phone up to his ear. Arthur pulled up to red traffic lights, in spite of the total lack of any other cars at the junction, and waited to take the turn heading towards Shepherd's Bush. His stare was caught by the ring Merlin had given him. It was warm around his finger as it shone dully with the dark light.

'Leon?' Gwaine asked. 'Merlin's fine? You've got to be kidding—‘

Gwaine stopped. Arthur was listening intently and missed the signal change, waiting just long enough to see them.

Percy leaned forward in the passenger seat. 'Arthur.'

The rain had turned to snow when Merlin collapsed, a coincidence he'd found eerie, and visibility was terrible. It fell heavily, gently, continuously as if the sky was falling apart snowflake by snowflake. Now ahead of them the road was obscured by a coiling white fog. It spread towards them in wisps, coalesced and built into something thicker and darker. An impenetrable and endless white wall.

'It's just fog,' he said meekly and shifted gear.

Percy put a hand on the gear stick. 'Wait.'

'We've got a situation here, mate. We'll get back there in a few minutes. Make sure Merlin doesn't leave,' Gwaine said into his mobile before hanging up and scooting towards them both to stick his head between their seats. The fog spread and welled up against the edges of the closed shops and spilled across the black bonnet in thin threads that coiled and rolled back at the contact. 'Is this magic?'

'Worse,' Arthur breathed and changed gear again. 'It's the dead.'

He knew Percy was giving him the biggest _what-the-actual-fuck_ look he was capable of but ignored it as he twisted the wheel around and made a U-turn away from the approaching wall. The windscreen wipers pushed snow out of the way as best they could but it was piling on too quickly. The right hand side of his BMW brushed into the fog when he did and their breaths came out visible as if Arthur hadn't blasted the heating the whole drive so far. 

'Back at Leon's you said this had happened before. Time to explain,' Gwaine said as the car lurched a little and headed down the road, his head craned back to look out the rearview window. Hail mixed with the snow started up again in little pitters and patters against the car.

'This is too complicated,' Arthur huffed and put his foot down on the pedal harder and the car engine roared. He was hitting close to 40mph, on the edge of his comfort in the bad conditions. He could feel the wheels lose their grip on the icy road. 'Right, you two are going to have to trust me for now, okay? We don't have the time for you to process the whole truth. The Dorocha are spirits, the souls of the dead. They were released into this world before, centuries ago, and were sent back to the spirit world before things got really bad. They're back.'

'How do you know that?' Gwaine asked, sat forward again.

They were two streets away from Leon's now. 'Trust me.'

The windscreen cracked, splintered, and caved inwards.

Arthur slammed the brakes, ducked his head down, but the inertia and force was too wild when something else rammed into Percy's side of the car. Another window cracked and glass blew out against him, scattering towards Arthur as the BMW spun and skidded along the road. Freezing winds and wet snow battered into them. The world was blurred, and he kept his foot on the brakes, arms straining to control the wheel. Locked tires screeched painfully until they hit the side of another parked car with a metallic _bang_ and it all blew out. The air bags deployed at all sides and his vision flared white.

Seconds passed before the ringing in his ears, pounding in his head, and tensed brick-wall of a shield softened in front of him. Arthur sat up straight, felt the heat trickle down from his nose, the metallic taste in his mouth, and groggily pushed the rough air bag fabric out of the way. Glass clinked down around him with each motion.

'Shit,' Percy croaked and unbuckled, squinting and shaking the glass off his clothes with slow lethargic movements. Half his face was cut up and Gwaine, also dazed, started picking out pieces form his hair. The snow was gentle as it gathered on the car and fell through the broken windows. The street was too empty after the noise they'd made. Arthur's side of the car was wedged up against an obnoxiously coloured lime green mini, now battered and broken with the force of the impact. It was a miracle they hadn't flipped over. 

'Just keep going,' Gwaine urged.

'What did we even hit?'

'Something hit _us_ , Percival,' Arthur corrected and undid his seatbelt, body aching.

'Dorocha?'

'You two stay here. Let me out,' Arthur started and scrambled over Percy who groaned at the sudden weight. He climbed across his lap and tripped out of the car door onto the road, head spinning.

'You okay?' Gwaine asked from the back of the car. 

'Bloody great. One of you take the driver's seat and keep the engine running,' he said and got back to his feet, trying not to groan at the pain. Small pieces of glass fell from the folds in his coat when he slammed Percy's door shut and looked up and down the barren street, blinking against snow and hail. Something _had_ hit them. There wasn't anything in the road though. The hairs on the back of his head stood on end and his teeth chattered against the cold.

He walked about ten feet down the middle of the road with slow weighted steps, houses rising high on either side abnormally silent, before he saw them. Off the edge of the pavement, there was a pair of shoes that stuck out from behind a parked Aston Martin. Arthur headed towards them until he stood over a woman's body, brown eyes open and frozen over, frost crusting her eyelashes, hair, and lips. The door to the car was open, the keys still in her frozen hand.

His heart thumped heavily. Kneeling down beside her he checked for a pulse, hissing at the biting cold of her skin. Nothing. A red drop splattered down onto the concrete and he put a hand up to his bleeding nose. He stood up in time to see the air grow cloudy again as it cooled well below freezing. They had to get away. His impulse to take her body with them kept him stuck in place too long and the distant inhuman wails chased the sound of the soft snowfall, the harsher rainfall beyond that. He had to go. Moving as quickly as he could with waves of nausea and dizziness Arthur climbed into his BMW's backseat and told Gwaine, 'Drive.'

While the engine still rumbled they didn't move, the harsh repeated revving doing nothing at all.

'Mate, it's not budging,' Gwaine told him and tried the accelerator again three more times. The wind cut through to them inside the car, glass pieces shifting and rolling against the dashboard and metal bonnet as snow melted. Arthur steeled himself and pulled out his phone. Merlin answered on the first ring.

'Hey, Merlin, need some advice.'

His voice was faint and croaky as it came over the line. ' _What's wrong?_ ' 

'The car won't move and I'm pretty sure Dorocha are heading our way. A woman's dead on the street and I was hoping you'd have some suggestions,' he said, eyeing the approaching fog as Gwaine kept trying to move the car. 'I thought they could only move at night time-'

' _It's my fault_ ,' Merlin said, this time even fainter.

'How?' Arthur asked, confused. The next rev gave way to a promising growl but then a painful _clink_ and scratch of metal cut out any noise altogether. Adrenaline pumped through his body faster. 'Merlin, what can we do so we don't get killed in the next five minutes?'

' _Run._ '

Arthur's head spun with the injury and adrenaline. Running was obvious. 'You can't get here and start the car?'

' _I wish I could but my magic_ ,' Merlin stopped and Arthur heard him breath rapidly. ' _Arthur, I'm so sorry, I can't, I'll try but you need to run. Please, you have to go._ '

'Fuck it,' Arthur said and opened his door. 'Percival, Gwaine, we're going on foot. Now.'

'We could knock on-'

'Wait. It's leaving,' Gwaine interrupted. Arthur stared as the fog spread out thinner until the air was clear again. It was still cold, wet, and darkly overcast, and the sound of rustling evergreens and branches started up in the previous silence. Arthur let out a sigh of relief, nerves raw with the crash. Percy spotted the woman's body, pointed it out to Gwaine and they headed over when people started opening front doors.

'We've got to call this in,' he said and put the phone back to his ear. 'Merlin, they're gone. I've got to get forensics down here and sort this mess out. I have no idea how long it will take-'

'*I'll come, I think I can-*'

'No, I'm sorry, I was freaking out. You need to rest.'

'*Too bad,*' Merlin said before a strange crackle pop sounded over their connection. 'I'm already here.'

Arthur spun around at the sound of his voice, gritted his teeth against the nausea, and reached out when Merlin started to tip down. Merlin braced against him, pale and eyes sunken. 

' _Merlin_ ,' Arthur hissed. 'What if someone just saw you appear out of nowhere?'

'You're honestly more concerned about that right now?'

Arthur glared at him. 'Shouldn't I be? If someone saw you they-'

'What? They'd freak out? It's snowing heavily enough. They'd just think their eyes were playing tricks on them.'

'They might try to hurt or kill you,' he snapped and realised. The fear was back, if it had ever really left. The fear of magic he'd grown up with. The sticky, burning feeling he'd had when Merlin had told him the truth after the battle. How it made complete sense and none at all. He licked his lips at the wet hot sensation as the blood dripped down from his nose. He put his sleeve up and wiped it away, sniffing pointlessly.

'This isn't Camelot, Arthur,' Merlin reminded him, eyes wide as he kept looking over his face, his temple, his bleeding nose, with those wide yes. 'Plus they'd have to try pretty hard to do either of those things.'

'Just, for me, could you keep it subtle in public?'

He watched as Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly, pulled away. 'Old habits die hard I guess.'

Arthur reached out to him with a hand but Merlin moved a step back.

'You're probably sick to death with doing exactly that, aren't you?'

'Not really. I'm more sick of hiding it from you,' Merlin said, the distance in his stare disappearing for the moment. Dark, blue, tired, but closer and open to him. The sirens floated up with sharp disjointed wails.

'Are you fine now?’ Arthur asked.

'Sort of. What about you? You're hurt.'

'It's a bit of blood that's all,’ he lied. It hurt a lot. _A lot_. Merlin didn’t have to know that, though. ‘It's definitely the Dorocha? The things we saw take Phoebe and whatever just attacked?'

Merlin's eyes shifted over his shoulder, emptily staring, then found the wreckage of the car and frowned. 'Yeah.'

'They're not behaving like they did before,' Arthur added.

'No. They're not.'

'Arthur!'

He turned to see Percy wave him over as a patrol car pulled up to pavement. The motion made his world shift a little strangely. Everything was shoved a few feet too far to the left before it faded back into its proper place.

'Wait for me?' Arthur asked and looked back to Merlin who stared blankly, frowning. What he'd give to just crawl into bed with a hot drink and Merlin next to him with painkillers and a first aid kit. Instead he had to tear his eyes away from Merlin, cross the street, and avoid the broken pieces of his car. Merlin nodded and the softest flicker of a smile blew across his face and Arthur took his hand. For a second they stood, connected, in the snowy cold. Then Arthur pulled away, turned his back on him, and concentrated on walking in a straight line while his vision tilted and ice crunched under his shoes.

 

* * *

 

Merlin quickly made it over to a lamp post and rested back against it. His legs had started to shake while talking to Arthur and his body was weighed down. Exhaustion, magic, his own health, whatever it was it left him tired. He wanted to Vanish back out of the street but it had taken too much, risked too much, to even get to Arthur. Even then, if the Dorocha hadn't left, he doubted he'd have been able to do more than act as a body shield.

_Deal._

He tipped his head back to stare into the clouded sky. Snow slowly fell down over him and grew heavier as the sirens arrived, flicked off, and he heard Arthur's voice sending the emerged civilians away. There was a frozen stillness in the air, the same kind he'd felt lying paralysed in Leon's bed. Merlin pressed his lips together as the urge to cry surged up. Taking in a deep breath he closed his eyes against the white sky and begged that heat under his skin to come back for a moment. Just a tea spoon's worth, something, that could take him away.

Air surged against him and his body jerked with the shock. Merlin's heel caught on something when the quiet and warmth solidified around him and he landed on his bum in the middle of his bedroom at Gwaine's. His running heartbeat slowed as he realised, as the exhaustion dragged his head back down to rest on the wood.

He stayed there until he could feel bodiless, still and melting into the floor and air, then he got up. Blinking against the head rush and blinding splotches Merlin pulled out his phone and pulled out the card.

He began to type out the number and paused when his phone rang. Arthur's name filled the screen. He hesitated, then his thumb tapped the reject button and he continued, putting the phone up to his ear. Nerves squeezed his chest with unpleasant strength and his hand grew cold before a calm, ' _Hello?_ ' drifted into his right ear.

'Hi,' Merlin said.

' _Merlin_ ,' he said. ' _Merry Christmas. I didn't expect a call so soon._ '

'I didn't think I would call at all.'

' _You've decided?_ '

'No.'

' _No?_ '

Merlin fought not to hang up. It was stupid to call him. He was the new leader of Old Religion, who could be and should be arrested for possession and intent to supply _at least_. He was creating new magically infused drugs. His business cards were the connecting factor of several brutal murders. He could be stepping into the territory of perverting the course of justice.

He took in a shaky breath. 'I'm scared.'

' _Are you in danger?_ '

'It's complicated. Yes and no,' he said, caught off guard at the genuine concern in Alvarr's voice. _Nix’s_ voice. 'Are you busy?'

' _I'm with friends_.'

'Oh.'

' _I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I left_ ,' he continued. ' _Unless, of course, you'd like to join us?_ '

'I shouldn't have called, it's Christmas, I didn’t—'

' _Nonsense, darling. If I give you an address would you be able to come over?_ '

'Uh,' Merlin ran the options through his head once he'd moved past the _darling_. 'My magic isn't trustworthy right now and with no public transport—‘

' _I'll fetch you. Where are you?_ '

Merlin's skin tingled. This wouldn't end well. He knew it wouldn't. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have called.'

He hung up, heart up in his throat. His phone buzzed and a new message popped up.

_If you change your mind just text and I'll come. — Nix._

His phone rang and Arthur's name came up across the screen again. _Fuck_. Merlin ran a hand through his hair, massaged his fingers into the back of his head, felt the warmth of his skin, the rain dampened curls, and answered.

' _Where did you go?_ '

'Back to Gwaine's.'

' _Why?_ ' Arthur asked. Voices and pouring rain hitting something with tinny splatters crinkled through the connection. He was still at the car crash. Merlin paced around his bed, the mental whiplash of the day draining him further.

'This is a lot to deal with. You're safe. That's all that matters.'

' _Merlin, we need to talk with the others about this. We need to tell them the truth about us, all of us._ '

He frowned. Him _and_ Gwaine in the same day? 'No. We can't.'

' _Why not?_ '

'They're happy,' he said.

' _And telling them will make them unhappy?_ '

Merlin stared at the door in the dark room. Curtains drawn, light turned off, he felt hazy, grainy, in the shadows.

' _Knowing made you incapable of being happy?_ ' Arthur asked.

'It made some things harder. A lot harder,' he answered, the memory of his own breakdown at the beginning of the year pressing down on him like a fog. The hell he'd gone through in the summer, how he'd come so close to losing himself, his mind, his life, Arthur. It had screwed him up. Lying practically dead in a hospital bed for three months gave him an adjusted sober perspective. 'It made some things make sense and feelings stronger, but it also made them hurt. I know I sound like an insufferable teenager—‘

' _No, it doesn't. You're right._ '

'I don't want that for them. Knowing wouldn't help them. Knowing the way we do. I mean, I have—' he paused.

' _What?_ '

'I told Gwaine about it. A few months ago when I was drunk. I told him, but I didn't show him the way I showed you. I didn't make him remember,' he continued, groaned, and let out a long breath. 'You want the truth?'

' _I kind of hope you tell me the truth most of the time, Merlin_ ,' Arthur said with a small breathy laugh at the end. Merlin smiled softly.

'I'm terrified. Not just about the past life, about how this is happening, or even about us. I'm scared that the Dorocha can't be stopped. I'm scared that it's my fault they are even here. I'm scared that we can't stop the magic people are using. I'm scared that maybe we shouldn't try to. I mean, what if— What if this is why we came back, Arthur?'

' _What is? The resurgence of magic?_ '

'Yeah. What if this is why we came back? Why you came back? The once and future king, who will rise again when Albion needs him most. Destined to unite the kingdoms,' Merlin rambled through it as thoughts raced by. He was buzzed on _something_ , adrenaline or fear, probably both. 'What if you're meant to be here to unite the magic users with the normal people?'

' _I suppose that could explain it, but even if that's the case, the Dorocha are a more immediate threat to everyone. Like the whole-world-everyone. We need to figure something out, for that and for how to deal with magic. We can figure this out together. We’ll—'_

  A soft shift in the air and an odd thunk was the only warning Merlin had before a man stepped out of his wardrobe. Arthur's voice drifted away as he watched Nix clear his throat, straighten his dark button-up shirt, and offer a smile in the gloomy room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Flicker:  
> Banquo’s Death - From “Macbeth” Soundtrack by Jed Kurzal  
> What The Water Gave Me by Florence + The Machine  
> Feel Real by Deptford Goth  
> Punching in a Dream - Stripped by The Naked and Famous  
> Dream by Mountain Bird  
> Basic Instinct by The Acid


	10. Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! :D Also a warning that this chapter gets psychologically dark towards the end. Normally I'm not a fan of spoilers, but for the sake of this story rest assured that it gets a lot brighter and happier. xx

  'Can I call you back?'

  ' _Why?_ '

  ‘I’ll— We will. We'll figure this out. Together. I just have to call you back,' Merlin said and ended the call. Nix kept quiet and still in front of the open wardrobe. 'What are you doing here?'

  'If you know the person or location well enough you can travel to them. You sounded upset, quite distraught actually, so I thought I would come over. Was I wrong to?'

  Merlin headed over to the light switch quickly, flicked it on, and faced him from the closed door.

  'Yes,' he snapped and scoffed. 'You can't just Vanish wherever you want to without telling the person first.'

  'Vanish?'

  'That's what- That's what I call it. You know, travelling from one location to another in an instant.'

  'Rather poetic,' Nix said, smiling. 'Are you on your own here? No one should be alone on Christmas.'

  Merlin wished he hadn't hung up on Arthur. He crossed his arm, hand wrapped tightly around the mobile phone.

  'I'm fine so you can leave.'

  Nix walked towards him. 'You're not. Let me help.'

  'How can you help? Talking?' Merlin asked, the hostility slipping out in a bite with each word.

  'Talking,' he confirmed gently. He stopped approaching with five feet left between them. 'Why are you scared?'

  Merlin watched him, too aware of his own exhaustion, of the strange electricity in the air. 'Right now you're the one putting me on edge.'

  'I would never hurt you, Merlin,' he said. Merlin scoffed at that. It was cliché, too easily a lie, and sounded far too sincere to be trustworthy. Why had he called him? 'I'm here to listen and help if I can. That's what I promised you last night. We need to stick together.'

  'You can't help me.'

  'Maybe I can't. I'd still like to try. Are your friends alright?'

  'They're great.'

  'And you're in a relationship with the blonde one?'

  Merlin tried to stay calm. 'Why does it matter?'

  'I'm curious, that's all. I brought you something in case you found this too invasive which you evidently do,' Nix said and pulled a pouch out of his trouser pocket. 'You know the mythology of the Fates?'

  'Why?'

  'It's said that they rule over the past, present, and future. Fate, essentially. The three who spin, measure, and cut the length of a man's life. The threads which gods could spin not just for life, but for events in the person's life, creating bonds and knots for each moment of joy, destruction, luck, and so on.'

  'Why does any of that matter? I don't subscribe to myths.'

  'Don't you? It matters because the art of magic, properly used, can break those bonds. The Gods, the Fates, may be stories and nothing else, but _life_ isn't a story. If magic exists in this reality, then perhaps the threads do too. It's my belief that each of us has an individual thread and that having magic means we have some of the power held by the Fates and Gods. The ability to harm, to shape, and to change lives, our own or other people's.'

  'I'm not religious.'

  'Neither am I, darling. Now, I can't remember the quote directly, but the greek poet Pindar wrote that a man's life is a day. That man is the dream of a shadow. Shadow unifies us all, connects us through time, and is just as fleeting and eternal as life. I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that we are all connected, that our lives are a gift, and that our powers share parts of themselves with the legends of gods, of the Fates. That is no small thing.'

  'Is that all?'

  'This,' he lifted up the small packet of white powder, 'is Chronos.'

  'You really like mythology.'

  Nix smiled wryly. 'I find it inspiring and comforting.'

  'It's a drug of some kind?'

  'Yes.'

  _Great._ Just what a Detective Sergeant needed in his bedroom. 'What does it do?'

  'Depends on the user. It’s called Chronos because of its effects on time. It removes it.'

  'It removes time?'

  'You can heat it up and inject it, but the best results comes from smoking. As a Metropolitan detective I assumed you wouldn't have one of these so I brought one,' he explained and pulled out a small glass round-based bong.

  Merlin let out an exasperated sigh. 'You've got to be joking. I don't want your drugs.'

  'Not yet,' he said and dropped them both onto the bed. 'Now,' he paused and closed the space between them. Merlin lifted his hand but Nix kept going until he had to actively push back against his chest. 'You're not well.'

  'I'll be better when you leave,' Merlin told him, heartbeat in his ears with his back now pressed against the door, hand still awkwardly stopping Nix's approach.

  'Your magic is spent. You said it yourself.'

  'I work with the Metropolitan Police. I don't need magic.'

  'For your particular illness, you do.'

  'I'm not ill.'

  'You're eyes give you away, Merlin,' Nix continued softly and raised a hand. ‘It’s more than just fatigue. Your magic is itself worn out. A small cantrip and you'll feel better. _Stronger_.'

  'I'm not a fan of people using magic on me. It rarely ends well for them,' he said, trying his best to channel the aimless resentment wrapped up in his chest.

  'I promised I wouldn't hurt you, darling,' Nix went on and white light sparked at the tips of his fingers, arching across and connecting like a web over his whole palm. 'Trust me.'

  Merlin made to move away but Nix planted an arm in his way caging him in. 'No.'

  ‘ _One_ second and you'll feel better,' he said and moved the shining web-covered hand closer. Merlin tensed, jaw clenched, and balled up his fists.

  'Move any closer and you'll regret it. I can break your nose or arm first. Up to you,' he warned. It was a lie. He knew how to, he'd done it before on duty, but his body was sapped of _everything_. Staying awake at that point took all his strength. Nix pushed the hand towards his face too fast, too strong to stop him even when he grabbed the arm. The palm locked against the right side of his face. Shivers coursed through his head, hot and cold, shooting down through his teeth, jaw, and skull, until they cooled and dripped around every nerve. 

  Merlin sucked in his breath through his teeth. He watched Nix's eyes glow for a moment before they darkened again and the weight in his bones lifted. The deep aching melted away and he felt normal again. Light, unburdened, even a little warmer. 

  'See?' Nix said, hand brushing down his face as he pulled it back.

  Merlin blinked away the burning in his eyes. 'Don't ever do that again.'

  'If you insist.'

  'Leave. Get out right now.'

  'You should know that I've never met a man so close to the dream. Most are less than shadows, but _you_ ,' he paused. 'Your magic, your— You have a strength, a hope, Merlin, inside you that's just so _bright_. So colourful. Don't underestimate yourself. You might just be the dream we all aspire to wake into.'

  'That doesn't make any sense,' he said, breathing gentler, easier, but alert and tense with Nix so close.

  'Not everything has to.'

  Merlin watched as he gave him that strange melancholic and kind smile.

  'You don't know who I am.'

  'I'd like to. Would you like me to take you anywhere? To the blonde? It is Christmas. You should be with the ones you love,' Nix said, his eyes searching for something in his face. Merlin thought about it. They were all dealing with a murder now. Arthur's car had been ruined by Dorocha. The Cailleach had spoken to him, had warned him of consequences. He'd managed to screw things up in a coma.

  Arthur also had a girlfriend, couldn't trust him, didn't want to lose him, was going to break up with Mithian, and knew that he'd done bad things. He'd made him feel like a monster after attacking Phoebe and then he'd made him feel safe. There was Mordred. Mordred who he hadn't spoken to since waking up. Mordred who he hadn't seen in four months. Mordred who'd almost ruined him a year before. Mordred who had murdered Arthur, who he had killed at the battle, who had kissed him and understood when no one else had.

  'Can you take me to someone you don't personally know?'

  'If I let your thoughts lead the spell, yes. I will need a name, though.'

  Merlin mulled it over. Nix might not take him anywhere he actually wanted to go. At that point he could Vanish them to the middle of nowhere, kill him, and no one would ever find him. He frowned at the thought, swallowed, and ignored the strange tingle at the back of his head. 'Take me with you.'

  'You're not just wanting to put faces to names for arrests later on?'

  'I will arrest you in the end. Right now I need something without history. Something without the burden of the past.'

  'The end is a long way off, darling,' he said and offered his hand. Merlin pushed his mobile phone into his front pocket and took it. His bedroom swirled, the colours dragged and mixed around each other before they dove into a black mass. His body hit it and he held his breath, eyes squeezed shut as it oozed around him. It was cold everywhere and Merlin's heart raced in panic as his lungs burned, too scared to try and breathe. He was suspended and blind with Nix's hand distantly pulling him through the strange thick liquid. He sucked in frozen air the second he stepped out onto a balcony.

 

* * *

 

  Mordred put a hand up to cover his yawn as he walked down Chelsea Embankment. He'd been given desk duty until Guy's had a conclusive diagnosis for his seizures, and with Christmas they worked slowly, if at all. His body hurt from all the travelling he'd done instead. From the mountain in Scotland, back to the basement club, to their old flat in Islington, to the Pendragon Manor in the Surrey countryside, he'd spent the last five days looking everywhere for her. Whatever had happened on that mountain, whatever had happened to Merlin, had broken their connections, the magic that tied them together and he couldn't do anything else to find her. He felt alone. Lost. Everything he'd always been and always felt. Will was the only person keeping him together. They'd texted constantly since Wednesday, since they'd decided it was okay and pretty great to kiss. He was lying to Will, though, living an entirely different life. A second life.

  Mordred stopped by the edge of the low concrete wall and stared into the Thames and its dark dirty water which chopped roughly with the hard wind. The snow veiled most of the skyline and blurred the details of the buildings across the water. He had to tell him. He had to find her. He leaned down onto the wall. 

  'Merry Christmas to me,' he said softly. Taking in a few fresh, water-cooled breaths, he pushed away from the concrete and stepped into someone. Saying sorry a few times and putting arms out in apology he refocused on the stranger and stopped.

  Her hair was straighter than he remembered. It fell around her face in waves, blew haphazardly across it, dark and long. 

  'I said I would come back, didn't I?' Morgana said with a small smile. 'Happy Christmas.'

  'You,' he started, throat suddenly tight. ‘You’ve— I watched you die. I saw you fall. I saw Nimueh kill you.'

  ‘Mordred—'

  'How are you here?' he asked.

  'Merlin.'

  'Merlin?'

  'You know I felt it months ago, before it all? Old magic in the air. Something different about it. I suppose this's what it meant.'

  'The new magic, you know about it?'

  'Not just that,' she said softly. A frown flitted across her face. 'You've heard them, haven't you?'

  Mordred swallowed, conscious of his expression, of his inability to hide anything from her. After that night on the mountain something inside him had changed. He couldn’t lie to her. ‘Heard who?'

  She was unfazed. ’The voices. Their calls.'

  ‘It’s— How? How do you know?'

  'I've heard them too. You seem to be affected differently by it. Maybe because you haven't gone back there.'

  'Back where, Morgana?'

  'I'm not sure what to call it,’ she said and her eyes looked past his shoulder. ‘All I know is that Merlin opened a doorway that let me out. A doorway which freed the others as well.’

  'This is a lot to process,' he paused and studied her. ’This is— This— I thought I was going mad when I saw you at the club, and the _screaming_ , I thought—‘

  'Hey.' She focused her eyes on him again and put a hand up to his cheek. He saw the fear in her eyes. Would he reject her? Would he refuse to ever see her again? No more pretences after all. 'You're not.'

  Mordred could smell her, feel her, hear her voice in real life. Her hair blew into his face with a gust of wind and she quickly tucked it back behind her ears. Flakes of snow were trapped in her soft curls then melted into droplets caught as if they were in a spider's web.

  'I don't know what to do here, Morgana.'

  'Neither do I.'

  'Why couldn't I feel your magic?'

  'Maybe because of what happened to me.'

  'What _did_ happen?'

  'Nimueh stabbed me and then I fell. I lost consciousness before I— Before I landed. When I next woke up I was on a cliff's edge and Merlin was there. I'd seen it all in a dream. I saw him breathe in dragon fire. Then everything crumbled and I was lost.'

  Mordred pictured it, tried to at least. It sounded like a dream, but then their lives did. Their existence defied reality, yet there they were. Forgotten, remembered, altered. Trying to survive. ‘Where were you?’

  'Everywhere. Woods, cities, mountains, places I'd never seen before. I was lost and every time I forgot to focus I was in a new place. I tried to look for Merlin, for anyone, but there was nothing. No birds, no people, no animals of any sort. I was alone.'

  'You were wandering around alone for over three months?'

  She laughed softly. ‘It's wasn't a lot of fun.'

  'That could make someone lose their mind.'

  'I think it might have but I remembered you,’ Morgana said. ‘I remembered why I was lost. And then I heard a storm. Thunder, the loudest kind I've ever heard. When I looked up the sky was torn like a sword had ripped open its skin. And I heard your voice.'

  'My voice?'

  'You were talking to someone, he called you Leir. You were laughing. And the next thing I know I'm lying in the valley of some mountain range covered in blood and in _a lot_ of pain. Magic fixed that up for the most part and I found the nearest town. Turns out Nimueh had kept you in a mountain in Greenland.'

  'Greenland?'

  'I used a glamour and got a hold of what I needed to get back to London. Vanishing across oceans takes a lot of magic and I wasn't strong enough. I had to take the long way round.'

  'I told them that you'd fallen, Morgana. Merlin, Arthur, they think you're dead. The public think you've gone on the run. It was a pretty big scandal.'

  'Technically, I did.'

  'You are going to tell them, right?’ he asked, partly for her response, partly for his own. She was alive. He had to tell them, didn’t he? If she didn’t, he had to.

  'I will. Today, though,' she paused. ’You know, I've wanted to see the sunset from Primrose Hill for years but never have.'

  ‘But it's freezing.'

  'Snow has it's own kind of magic, don't you think?

  Morgana gave him a tug and they Vanished. The concrete, water, and distant buildings cracked, collapsed, and poured down into a slope of ice-crusted and snow-layered grass.

 

* * *

 

  ‘I have this thing where I push people away,' Merlin said, leaning forward on his knees with the beer in his hands. Rain hit the pale awning cover overhead with a comforting consistency. 'It’s not something I consciously do. I just struggle to let them in, to share personal details, you know? I don't really share any stories and connect with them in that way. Even if I want to something holds me back.'

  Nix watched him from the woven sofa opposite, reclined back with an ankle perched over one knee. 'Being alone is a lot easier. Relationships take effort. They take a piece of you. Being so self-aware probably means you're ready to connect with someone like that.'

  'No, I'm not. I've done terrible things. Unforgivable things.'

  'Like what?' Nix asked, sitting forward. The rain had trickled in around their shoes and pooled into tiny dark puddles underneath the table between them. 'What could be so terrible?'

  'I lied.'

  'Everybody lies.'

  'You don’t understa—'

  'We aren't infallible, Merlin. We're all screwed up. It's nothing new or terrifying. We can hurt each other so we do. We can kill each other and we do. We can also care for each other so we do. We can love each other and we do to the point where you see it everyday if you look for it. Unforgivable things come hand in hand with the unforgettable and the magical. You don't need to be forgiven for anything.'

  'You're wrong.'

  'Maybe I am, but you need to give yourself a chance. You're too young to talk so solemnly. Everyone goes through these existential moments and your twenties hit you the hardest, but now is also the best time to explore yourself, trust yourself, take risks, try new things,' he explained, gleam in his eyes and a soft smile. He looked down at his empty bottle. 

  'Do you ever feel like you're two different people?'

  'You feel like that?'

  'Sometimes,' Merlin said. He wanted to tell Nix everything in vague enough terms, just let it out. He didn't know his own mind, he didn't know what he was doing anymore, he didn't know what he was doing with Arthur, and Nix was removed from the whole situation. He had magic but he didn't know his friends, he didn't know his past, he didn't even know his own. 'There's a version that's more _me_ , then there's this other me. The way I think is colder and judging and it’s— It’s cruel. I'm worried the second one will take over the first. I'm also worried I'm too in my head about everything. That maybe if I stopped caring, if I stopped being so self-centred it wouldn't even matter. Of course I then think that's a stupid idea, since I have to take care of myself but there's a big part that doesn't want to. I don't want to sleep, I don't want to eat, I don’t— I don't know where to end with this.' 

  'I think it's time for the stronger stuff.'

  Merlin looked at his half-empty bottle. 'I'm good.'

  Nix winked at him and rocked himself up onto his feet before he blinked out of sight. Heavy rain smudged the dark grey and black sky and Merlin shifted on the woven chair as the downpour grew stronger. It had been raining for half an hour now, heavy, light, heavy again. Snow fell in the lighter moments, just enough to remain with the already fallen. The sun had set two hours earlier to leave London's light the only thing keeping the sky's mass of disfigured clouds oddly highlighted. Merlin tipped the beer into his mouth when frost bloomed against the dark brown glass. He swallowed and pulled the bottle away to study the glaze of ice.

  Everything slowed and his heartbeat sped up.

  He breathed deeply when the sound of rain fazed out and grew muffled, his vision following suit as it blurred. Cold fingers under his skin scraped up his spine and neck.

  _Emrys_.

  Merlin let the bottle slip from his hand and gripped the edge of the chair. It clattered onto the concrete and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the cold.

  'What do you want?' he whispered. _Fucking fuck._ Why couldn't he be left alone? Be normal.

  _I want to close the tear between the worlds._

  He opened his eyes at the answer and the unforgettable voice of the Cailleach. Heart racing and world smudged by panic and rain her figure stood out black and blotchy as it loomed over him. 

  'You're the only one who can,' he said quietly, craning his neck up to face her. 'Why don't you?'

  _You broke the law. Your life was mine._

  He frowned as his heart slowed and vision cleared in spite of his panic. 'I had to. I can't leave Arthur alone. Not now.'

  _There are consequences, Emrys. You cannot break the natural order of Fate—_

  'Don't you dare,' he warned, now standing up with her aged and translucent pale face at an equal height with his own. 'It's because of you that Lancelot died and broke Gwen's heart. It's because of you that the Dorocha were released. You can close the veil if you wanted to without any blood sacrifices so if that's what—'

  _Silence_.

  His throat closed, flesh stuck together with something cold and hard, spikes scratching him from the inside. Merlin would have choked if the ability to hadn't disappeared.

  _You already saved the King's life in this new world. You have played your part. You are a  pawn destined to sacrifice itself for the King and you did so four months ago. Yet you tore the veil and returned. I cannot let you remain._

  Merlin blinked when the cold inside melted into slick water that ran down his throat, and he could talk again. 'I don't save his life just the once. I do it repeatedly. It's a long-term deal, not something where I sacrifice myself once and that's it. You can't dictate what my fate is. It isn't up to you, it’s—'

  _Silence, Emrys._  

  Again, ice inside his throat. He blinked and they'd moved to the edge of the balcony. Merlin didn't remember how they reached it. They were at the edge of the awning cover, his right shoulder spotted and wet with rain that had dripped onto it. 

  _It's time for you to fall, Emrys, and fix what you broke._

  He turned to face the edge of the barrier. It reached his hips, wet and dark concrete, with too far a drop down to the street. They were at least seven floors up, the top floor and essentially at the rooftop.

  'What?' he managed to croak out from the strange, painful ice in his throat.

  _Your life belongs to the Beyond, child. Jump._

  Her voice sounded in both of his ears, a low encouragement. He ducked forward, the shock of the rain making him gasp, and stepped up onto the barrier. His arm gripped the freezing metal pole of the cover to balance himself as he exposed himself fully to the hazy grey view. 'No, I don’t—'

  _You do. You must face the consequences, Emrys. A Dragonlord cannot break the trust placed in nature. If you don't jump the spirits will continue to run free, uncontrolled, ungoverned. Innocents will die in countless numbers._

  The toes of his Converse stood out over the edge. Rain got into his eyes, mouth, soaked through his clothes. All he could see were the rooftops opposite, the drop, leafless trees, street lamps spilling out orange light, and the lit up windows of flats dotted through the skyline of King's Cross. In one window two people were doing dishes. A young couple he decided when the man pressed a kiss against her cheek and she met the next with her lips.

  'You can stop the Dorocha—'

  _Not if you do not die._

  'That's ridiculous,' he scoffed, stinging cold hand letting go of the pole so he stood freely on the edge. His stomach churned when his body swayed with the wind and his own pumping blood.

  _It is Fate._

  'I can't do this,' Merlin said, eyes wide. Why was he standing there? What was he thinking? Why didn't he get down or call someone? The hard surface of his phone was pressed into his leg from inside his pocket. 'I can't do this to them.'

  _You were always meant to die from that wound, Emrys._

  An ache pulsed in his abdomen.

  _You have to leave them._

  His body shivered constantly at that point, heart rate forced down to a slow and calm but heavy beat. It hurt, the control over his heart was strange and painful and made his eyes hot with tears. He knew this feeling, the nerves, the tightness in his throat, the way every nerve shook and pounded with survival instinct, adrenaline burning through him.

  The pavement below was harder but just as dark as the water had been. Falling hadn't been terrible that first time. Dying hadn't been terrible. Remembering was the problem. He was alone when he died, no one to watch, no one there to stop him, just like he was now. It was easy. Simple.

  _You were never going to live the life you thought you would. The moment you met him again your path was sealed, Emrys._

  Him. He’d come back, he'd taken that bullet for Arthur, he'd protected him from Aredian. Arthur wouldn't have been in any danger from the Witch hunter if he hadn't been there. He wouldn't have been attacked by Aredian's hired killers. 

  What he'd said that day, the connection he'd felt the words cut, it came back. Arthur's voice in his head saying: _A part of me wishes I had never even met you._

  Merlin had almost forgotten why he became a detective in the first place. The old life had made his new one unclear. His parents had died, he'd been an orphan, he'd been taken in and brought up by his aunt. His aunt had died during university. He'd wanted to make them all proud. Make her proud. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live that normal happy life. He hadn't given Arthur a choice about his own life, or the others. He'd changed their lives forever by revealing his magic.

  _You were born again to save his life just as you were born to die doing so._

  It was his fault. He should have died. He brought the Dorocha and put Arthur and everyone else in more danger. Arthur knew how to handle magic, he had Mithian, the Knights, Gwen, he'd be okay. Arthur would be happier. They'd all be happier and safer. Mordred would be happier. They could forget him. It was the right thing. He'd make it right for them.

  Merlin stared down at the dark pavement, parked cars, and leafless trees. His whole body was numb, soaked through, and the shivers had stopped. He blinked slowly, let the tension leave his muscles, and let out his last breath before he stepped off the balcony.

  Cold air filled his ears, a terrifying roar, as he fell for less than a second before vibrations coursed up his leg and around his hip as the wind rushed past. _Mobile phone_. Merlin's heart slammed into him as he plummeted. The sluggish calm tore out of his body and full blown panic charged through every nerve. He had seconds left. 

  He couldn't Vanish, the magic wouldn't move in his veins, wouldn't heat up. He couldn't breathe. He was dead in seconds. He had to survive. He to do something. Anything. Something. _Anything_. When the sound of air rushing past stopped, when his fall slowed, when he could see the shape of frosted rain droplets surrounding him in suspended detail, he sucked in a last breath. He was still falling, slowly, with the world moving at a dilated pace, and the ringing phone stretched out into strange new tones. Then it sped up again.

  Rain, wind, cold, pavement, cars, someone screaming. Thunder cracked across the sky. It rolled through the wet air and said _Emrys_. Someone was saying his name. Not hollow. Not cold. It was low, familiar, dark, rough, inside his head. He braced himself, arms around his head, and hit the cement.

  Blackness consumed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Frost:  
> Sirens by Fleurie  
> Blapradur by Sigur Ros  
> Mouth of the River by Imagine Dragons  
> Young Blood - Renholdër Remix by The Naked and Famous  
> Destroying Angel by Sneaker Pimps  
> You’re Somebody Else by flora cash  
> B a noBody by SOAK  
> Until We Go Down by Ruelle


	11. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve is on the horizon and I hope you all have an amazing night, get excited, and embrace this chance for a new start! :) Be whoever you want to be, try that new thing you might be into, go somewhere you've never been before, and all that great stuff x x x

  'It's so wrong we're here on Christmas,' Gwaine complained from the chair he'd pulled up next to him. Arthur had entered all the relevant details into the HOLMES 2 system and had moved onto searching for any similar incidents. It was mostly to distract himself from the fact that Merlin hadn't called back yet. 'Are you listening, mate?'

  'I completely agree,' he murmured when he found another connecting factor at the scene of another suspicious death. Ice. A 68 year old man had been found on a bench in Holland Park next to the Orangery on the 21st. Died of a heart attack, the result of hypothermia, only it had been a minimum low of 8 degrees Celsius, and he’d worn enough clothing. No witnesses.

  'Merlin's calling,' Gwaine said and Arthur snapped his focus away from the screen. 

  'What?'

  Gwaine smirked at him. 'Kidding.'

  'Not funny,' Arthur growled and snatched his phone from the desk, the screen still dark. 'You know I'm worried.'

  'So am I.'

  'You're not acting like it.'

  'Says the man reading about murder.'

  'That's how I cope. Plus it’s our job.’

  'Merlin will call and we can figure out this Dorocha mess tomorrow. It's eight forty, Arthur. We've spent Christmas day hungover, in a car crash, attacked by the dead, and processing a murder,' Gwaine continued, as if he were putting forward a case in court. 'I'd like to get back to Leon's where there's a fridge full of beer waiting for us. Let's drink the night away with friends, yeah?'

  Arthur logged out and turned the screen off before he called Merlin again.

  ‘Mate, what are you even doing?'

  He put the phone to his ear as it rang. 'Calling him.'

  'I don't mean that. I mean the bigger picture. What are you doing with _him_?'

  It rang out, he got the automated 'leave a voicemail' tone, and he ended the call.

  Arthur pushed back in the chair. ’What do you think I'm doing?'

  'Screwing with him,' Gwaine said lowly and he turned to face the Irishman properly. 'Even back in Camelot you were what he focused on daily. He told me himself enough times. His life back then was shared with you. Hell, his life practically _was_ you and I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re different people now, but in all the time I've known him I've never seen him love someone the way he loves you. If you could both stop screwing around you'd probably beat Gwen and Lance in a sickeningly-sweet-couple contest. He's died twice to save you in the _last year_. That's got be a record.'

  'So you know. Merlin told you,' he said, excited by the revelation and depressed by the confirmation. He let the rest of what Gwaine said slip by on purpose. It made sense, and it made him feel like shit. Merlin had served him for years. He'd saved his life for years. Then Merlin shares everything with him and what did he do? He ended things.

  Gwaine groaned. 'Not the point, Arthur, that's old news.'

  He scoffed. 'Old news? Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that we've all lived before as kings and knights and manservants in a kingdom from legends, and that King Arthur guy was actually me, and Lance was actually Lancelot, I was married to Gwen then called Guinevere, and Merlin was a powerful sorcerer. How is that _old news_?'

  ‘It doesn't change the current situation, mate,' Gwaine said, staring at him. 'That was then and this is now. Dating Mithian is a massively dickish move on your part, and if it keeps up you _will_ lose him. You have to choose and do it now. You can't be in love with him and date other people. Especially when dead people are trying to kill us and magic is back with a twisted vengeance.’

  'I know,' Arthur murmured and looked down at his phone. 'I just wish he'd answer his bloody phone. Why did he disappear like that? You never leave an active crime scene like that for starters, and you don’t leave your partner—’

  He trailed off. _Partner_. Since when had that word become so complicated? Arthur called him again, putting the phone to his ear, and ignoring Gwaine's disapproving stare at the conversation jump. It rang twice before it cut off and went straight to voicemail.

  He pulled the phone back and ended the call. 'Strange.'

  Gwaine sighed. 'No answer?'

  ‘Voicemail. It barely rang. He must have rejected the call.’

  'You might want to break up with your girlfriend before you try to sort things out with him.'

  Arthur frowned when he realised. Not that he had to break up with her if he wanted to be with Merlin, but that he’d actually have to _tell_ her. Now. 'It's Christmas.'

  'If you want to wait to ask Merlin out, that's up to you, but the dead have risen, mate. End of the world is here.'

  ‘That’s a bit melodramatic.'

  'Also happens to be true,' Gwaine said with an arched brow as he stood up and shrugged on his coat.

  'Over the phone is a bit harsh.'

  'Then wait—‘

  'Fine,' Arthur huffed. 'I'll do it. She's going to hate me.'

  Gwaine grinned at him. 'I would.'

  'I'll meet you downstairs?'

  'I'll give Leon a ring and tell him we'll be over soon. I'm all tapped out for relationship advice so make your call, and let's behave like men about it after with looks of solidarity and leave it at that, alright?' Gwaine smiled and sauntered back to the lift. Arthur pulled up Mithian's number. His chest felt tight but he pressed the call button before he could chicken out.

  ' _Arthur, hi_ ,' Mithian said after the first ring. ' _Happy Christmas. It's a total mess here. My little cousins are running everywhere. I wish they'd get sent to bed already._ '

  She laughed and Arthur cringed. 'Merry Christmas. It's good to hear you're enjoying yourself.'

  ' _How about you?_ '

  'It's not great. I actually want to talk to you,' he said. Rip off the bandage. Quick was kind. ‘About us.’

  ' _Us? What do you mean?_ '

  It was bloody Christmas. He couldn't break up with her. 'I wanted to say that I think we're in a good place. That I was thinking about us and— Yeah. That's all. Nothing major.'

  ' _Oh. I think we're in a good place, too_ ,' she said then sighed. ' _Grant just broke a wine glass. Sorry, I've got to help. Thanks for the call, Arthur, I think I actually missed the sound of your voice, as cheesy as that is._ '

  ‘It's cheesy but that's okay,' he said and forced a small laugh. 'See you when you get back.'

  ' _The 28th, don't forget. I'll come by yours after I drop off my things?_ '

  'Sounds like a plan,' he agreed, and swallowed thickly.

  ' _See you._ '

  'Bye,' he breathed. The call finished and he pressed his lips together. He wasn't that arsehole who broke up with someone on Christmas. He also wasn't the arsehole who kept dating someone when they wanted to end things. He could explain things to Merlin and then end it when she got back, and they could move on. They could go on a proper first date, he could call Merlin his boyfriend, and they could deal with the dead and corrupt magic. Arthur pulled on his coat, scarf, put away his phone, and left with that reasoning keeping him from beating his own head against a wall.

 

* * *

 

  Pieces cut through to him. Rain was first. Pain was second. Ringing was third. Sounds came through warped by the aching and distortion from his ears. Mangled as it all was he managed to open his eyes when someone said his name. His body felt utterly broken. He was too scared to try to move. A side-ways Alvarr was crouched next to him yelling at someone, at him, he couldn't tell. He twitched the fingers of his right hand. He saw them react accordingly, blurry and pale.

  Merlin closed his eyes again. He'd never had a headache this bad before. Everything hurt. He could breathe. He tested it out, forced an inhalation which strained against his ribcage, let it go, then opened his eyes again. He was on his back. Nix was still crouched there talking to him. Cold rain ran into his exposed left ear, concrete hard against his head. Feeling it wiggle down into the warmth of his skull was uncomfortable.

  It came back to him. He'd stepped off the balcony. The Cailleach had been there. She had insisted. She'd made him want to do it. _Not good_. His phone, it had started to ring during the fall. It was Christmas. He'd stepped off the balcony.

  Merlin opened his eyes and tried moving again. This time with his left forearm and more effort. It obeyed and the ring on his index finger came into view. Nix moved forward as if to stop him, but the rain and his words couldn't penetrate the high-pitched ringing. Merlin pressed his palm flat against the cement by his right hand and used it as support as he pushed. 

  Keeping the cry contained in a clenched-teeth groan Merlin sat up. He felt the difference as he did. The bones, the burning, the way his vision blotched out in places, his head spun, and he came close to blacking out. The pavement had crumbled slightly around his body, caved in by a few centimetres with clumps of cement rolling beneath him as he moved. Heat poured down the right side of his face, down his neck, into his ear. He knew that sensation. _Blood_.

  His legs weren't visibly broken, impossibly, but the right ankle ached. Something had snapped.

  'Stay still,' Nix said, voice now clear beside the ringing. 'I'll call an ambulance.'

  'No,' Merlin breathed. The moment he put any pressure on his right arm it screamed back at him. He winced, lifted it gently up, and kept it close to his torso. 'Help me up.'

  'Merlin, what happened?'

  Sunlight streaked across the rooftops and he took in the awning cover and the chairs and table tucked away to the side. He couldn't find his voice again. His heart pounded and the air felt different. They were on the balcony he’d fallen from.

  'You're bleeding, Merlin. Where did you go?'

  Tears were running out now, instinct from the unbelievable pain. God it hurt so _much_. He concentrated on breathing, on the gold ring around his finger. 

  'I jumped,' he breathed, frowning. 'After you left I—‘

  'On Christmas?'

  'A few minutes ago. Seconds ago.’

  'I last saw you three days ago, Merlin, on Christmas day. It's Thursday the 28th. When I came back you were gone. You just appeared here like this while I was having a smoke, I don’t understand,’ he explained with an unwavering stare of concern. 'Let me get you inside.'

  Nix came in around his left side and helped him stand. The air outside was moist, with an overcast sky which pushed down on them, the snow gone. He helped him through the balcony doors into the warm flat.

  'You have to go to a hospital, Merlin.’

  'No,' he huffed and tried to stand properly. Once he was steady he mentally assessed everything that hurt and fought the urge to throw up. Head, shoulder, right arm, collar bone, rib-cage, right hip, right ankle. Those were major. The rest was secondary.

  He wanted to sleep. Exhaustion made his chest ache and breaths weak, stretched thin.

  She'd made him want to kill himself. He wanted to do it. He didn't want to but he did, he had that strange current run through him. Hot and cold, adrenaline and fear and thrill. It was fucked up. It had felt _right_ even though it went against every instinct.

  'Should I call the blonde?'

  'No.'

  ‘Merlin—'

  'I said no.'

  Nix watched him darkly. 'What happened?'

  'I don't know.'

  ‘If I’m putting the pieces together correctly, you tried to commit suicide on Christmas day and survived a six story drop. You then disappeared to show up three days later back on my balcony, which took the impact the pavement outside should have,’ he said. ‘That picture is _very_ wrong, darling.’

  Merlin felt his right pocket, of course his phone had been in the right pocket, and awkwardly tugged out the destroyed android. Second one of the year he'd killed. Maybe it was a sign. It was better to be cut off from them. From Arthur. _No_. That was stupid. _Shit shit shit shit shit._

  Merlin groaned loudly, at himself, at the pain, at the fact the Cailleach was definitely set on making him die to _balance_ everything or whatever the fuck she thought she was doing. Ridiculous, insane, stupid, out-dated thinking. He wanted to punch her really hard in her pale dead face.

  A shiver passed through him and he sniffed loudly. Merlin knew he looked gross, with red eyes, snotty and bloody nose, bloody head, rain soaked, bloody _everything_.

  The impact was black and broken in his memory, but the fear just before stood out. The fear and the phone ringing and that familiar voice saying his name. It had been there in the Exchange Building when the glass caved in. He hadn't recognised it then, but he did now. It was his own. It had been his own voice saying Emrys, the voice that had failed to save him from the stab wound. Merlin swallowed thickly, bit his bottom lip against the pain, and cried.

  It hadn't come to save him because he hadn't wanted to be saved. The Cailleach was right. God his head hurt a lot. He hoped he could heal everything properly. He had to. He couldn't go to another hospital, not if he wanted to keep it secret. They'd hate him if they found out. Arthur wouldn't speak to him ever again, but then Arthur would never speak to him again if he _didn't_ tell him. 

  'Merlin?'

  Nix was looking at him with a frown.

  'I have to go,' he said, eyes shut for a moment with the sting from tears and the aching behind them.

  'At least let me stop some of the more serious bleeding first if you refuse to get professional help,' he continued.

  Merlin wiped half-heartedly at the wet mess over his face. 'No. I have to go.'

  Nix put a hand around his upper arm, squeezing. It was warm and comforting. 'Merlin, I really think it would be better if you stayed.'

  Merlin nodded. ‘Maybe, but I still need to go.'

  The hand squeezed harder and the smile on Nix's face faltered.

  'Let go.'

  Nix watched him for another tight second before he pulled his hand back and stepped away. Merlin opened the door and left. He let himself limp, let himself feel the exhaustion, the odd new feelings that coiled around his nerves. The impulse to hurt himself, to do worse than that, and the other which tried to block it, fought against it, saved him from it. Nothing made sense anymore.

  He tugged on the residual strength and pushed it all into the image of Arthur's flat, the wooden door he'd felt so much history in, the place he'd made his home after the first Christmas working in Arthur's murder team.

  When Merlin felt the lurch he opened his eyes to see the white stone and wrought iron railings of the building. Queasiness churned in his stomach, his throat tightened, and he swallowed thickly. The number 24 was painted in fine ink on the white columns on either side of the stone porch. It stared out at him as the wind rustled through the trees and bushes in the small green square behind him. Morning drizzle pattered grey pock marks over the row of house fronts.

  Making sure to keep his steps as normal as possible, right ankle pulsing hotly, Merlin pulled himself up to the black door and rang Arthur's flat. A minute passed without response. He bit his bottom lip and swallowed back the tears from the pain which drummed through his body. It was Thursday morning. He'd lost three days. Why would Arthur be home? He'd be at work. He raked his fingers through his wet hair, flinched when they touched torn skin, and pulled back to see the red smeared across them.

  'Fuck,' he breathed, and looked up and down the street for the black BMW before he realised. Dorocha had attacked. Obviously his car wouldn't be parked outside if he were there. It was destroyed. As he ran through his options, all of which involved the hope he had enough power left over to Vanish once more back to his own bedroom to wash off the blood, the door behind him clicked.

  Hot adrenaline spiked through his chest and he turned back around.

  Arthur stared at him with wide eyes.

  'I'm sorry I left,' Merlin said, eyes wet and hot as everything he'd held back spilled over. 'I messed up. I did something bad— Really bad. It's my fault and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do, I don’t—'

  A painful lump choked his words as it grew in his throat. Everything was hot and fuzzy.

  Arthur stepped forward, arms reaching out. 'Merlin, what—‘

  'I wanted to help. I wanted to protect you but it—‘

  ‘We have to get you to A&E,’ he said, hands on his arms, on his cheeks, back on his arms. The touches were warm, gentle, panicked. Merlin pressed his lips and shook his furiously which made it hurt tenfold and he swayed on his feet.

  'Okay, okay, come with me,' he said and Merlin let Arthur lead him into the building to the stairs up to his flat. He watched him tensely, calmly, as they climbed slowly. 'Where did you go? I was freaking out, we all were.'

  'My room, I— Then Nix showed up and he—‘

  'Nix?'

  'He's the new leader of Old Religion. He took me to his flat and we talked, but then she came—‘ 

  Arthur's hand brushed across his when they reached his landing and he paused. ‘Merlin, I— Mithian's here.’

The strange cold hum turned sharper under his skin and the pain in his ankle, head, arms, it didn’t matter as much. He leaned back towards the staircase.

'I thought— I'm sorry. Stop, I'll go, I can leave,' he stammered out.

  ‘No, no, like hell you will. She's only here because I was breaking up with her, then you rang the flat. Don’t go anywhere, okay?’

  Arthur gently guided him down the corridor and opened the door. Merlin face was wet with tears, blood, and even through the panic his stomach twisted and the humiliation, the anger, layered on top of everything else.

  'Bad timing,’ he murmured, blinking away the wetness. 

  'As if it matters. You can always come to me. In fact, you _should_ always come to me when you want to, Merlin. I'd never send you away,' Arthur said and took him inside.

  ‘Arthur?' a woman called from further inside the flat. The same voice that had answered Merlin’s call from the hospital. The one which he’d tried to forget and leave behind in Camelot. Mithian walked out of the kitchen and stopped several feet from the doorway. Merlin looked at her as her mild expression grew shocked.

  ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Arthur whispered to him, warm hand on the forearm of his unbroken arm. Merlin nodded. ‘Do you want to clean up, then? I've got to— You know.'

  'Yeah,' he mumbled. 'Yeah, I'll just—‘

  He stepped away to the side and left them in the living room. Behind him he heard Arthur close the front door and try to calm Mithian down.

  'No, don't call an ambulance,' Arthur said.

  'Are you mad? He's bleeding like he was hit by a speeding bus.'

  'Mithian, we have to talk—‘

  Merlin locked himself in the bathroom. Their voices were muffled and he let the hot embarrassment roll through him until pain took over again. He turned on and adjusted the cold and hot taps, leaving odd red smears on the stainless steel, and the sound drowned out their conversation entirely.

  He undressed carefully, blinked out anymore tears, and stepped into the shower's stream. He bit back another cry from the burn of water against his open wounds and frozen skin and concentrated on what he'd felt minutes before. It mattered.

 That strength, that low voice, that current _mattered_. He slowly sewed the tears in his body as he recalled it. Carefully, to keep the sick feeling at bay, to make sure he stayed focused on the current moment, on the water, on the steam. On _now_. Internal, external, he watched bruises turn dark purple then blue then green, a strange yellow, until for some the trauma healed completely. The water ran red then pink and clear again as it flowed through his hair, off his arms, down his stomach, and around his legs.

   After several minutes he only had a handful of darkened bruises left and his right ankle twinged. The bone had healed, but the power extended only so far, and it wouldn't wash away the damage completely. Merlin patted his skin dry with a fluffy white towel and lifted his clothes up grimly from their messy pile on the floor. He did what he could to clean them, waving his hand over the jumper, the t-shirt, the jeans. The heaviest bloodstains calmed down to a dark blush in the fabrics and rips stitched back together like his skin had.

   There was a knock at the door and Arthur's voice sounded from the other side. ‘Are you alright?'

   'Yeah, I'll be out in a minute,' he said. The steam clogged up his head. Everything was bright with the the bathroom’s light, warm, closed. He blinked slowly, breathed heavily, and noticed the razor on the edge of the kitchen basin.

   ‘Do you want a change of clothes?'

    'Yeah,' Merlin said. The air was thick with steam, mirror clouded up, but the blades in the razor caught the light. 'Thanks.'

    'And tea?'

    'Yeah.'

    _Fix what you broke._

    Water trailed down his spine from his damp hair as he picked it up. He ran the tip of his finger along the thin blades. The sharp edges stuck a little against his skin. A small angle change and they would cut through. His chest tightened and he pressed his lips together, throat dry.

   Merlin took in deep breath and dropped it. He bundled up the clothes, stuffed them into the bin next to the basin and slid the metal bolt on the door. He stepped out into the cooler, clear air, with the towel wrapped around his waist.

  He heard movement in the bedroom across the hallway and walked over to see Arthur pull a grey jumper from its hanger. Merlin tapped his knuckles against the white wood and the blonde looked up.

  While their eyes met at first Arthur's dropped down to his chest, his stomach, and Merlin resisted the urge to fold his arms. The scar wasn't going to disappear. It curved slightly, small at no more than two inches long, and sat as a pinkish reminder against his pale skin. Given a few more months and it would fade to a beige or a paler white colour.

  ‘Are jogging trousers alright? Their waist is adjustable, so I thought—‘

  'They're great.'

  ‘It almost looks like nothing happened to you. Are you feeling better?’

  Merlin let out a long breath. 'I'm sorry.'

  'You need to stop apologising, Merlin,' Arthur said and rested the jumper down next to the trousers and a plain blue t-shirt.

  'I don't know what else to say.'

  Arthur watched him with a soft expression. ‘Neither do I.’

  Merlin swallowed and tightened his grip on the towel secured just above his hips. He knew he was blushing from the heat that welled up under his cheeks, the flush that ran through his body. Fear, nerves, the way Arthur looked at him, _into_ him.

  'She won't stop them, won't close the tear, unless I die,’ he said and waited for Arthur’s reaction. They were two, maybe three, feet apart. His damp hair was dripping onto his shoulders. Water trickled down his neck, behind his ears, into the dips above his collar bones, down his spine, down his chest. 'She's making me _want_ it.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she kill you herself, Merlin?’ Arthur asked. ‘Maybe she has to make you want it yourself because she can’t do it. If you fight that feeling she can’t do anything to hurt you. Maybe you can close the tear yourself.’ 

  ‘No, you don’t understand, it’s not— Even if I did she won’t stop. She’d just open it again. She has power, Arthur,’ he stopped and frowned. The coldness in his hands, in his head, made it obvious. He couldn’t close the tear, he had to die, was meant to. ‘I killed Phoebe, and we lied about it our friends. I let Dorocha enter this world because I didn’t want to die. More people are dying because I was selfish and didn’t want to— I’m essentially killing people because I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to die.’

  His voice was louder now. Angry not sad. Like it had in the summer, the sadness gave him power. It made his thoughts clear even if they hurt. Merlin listened to Arthur’s breath in the quiet room. He was just watching. Listening.

  ‘You broke up with Mithian because I— We didn’t work the first time round for a reason and still, _still_ , I have to fuck it all up again,’ he sucked in a sharp breath to shut himself up and felt his exposed skin start to cool as he adjusted to the room’s temperature. ‘How many times have I said _I_ for fuck’s sake.’

  Arthur licked his lips and finally broke his eye contact, stare flitting down to the scar on Merlin’s abdomen, then over his shoulder, then back to his face. His expression was calm, stoic, like it had been so many times before. This time was different somehow. Merlin could really see the king in it, the man who carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders.

  ‘You deserve to be alive, Merlin. You deserve to be in love. You deserve to be happy,’ Arthur said. ‘I was the one who started to chase her down. I talked you into lying about it to the others. I refused to believe that my manservant had magic until the day I died in your arms. I also more recently repeatedly drank myself to the point of blacking out. I refuse to visit Morgana’s grave. I haven’t visited my father’s for the last six months. I even pointed a loaded gun at my head two months ago.’

  ‘Arthur,’ Merlin started but the look wasn’t gone and he let it go with another breath. He had a good inkling that Arthur was going through a lot, that he had been through a lot after the attack, but he didn’t want to know it had been that bad.

  ‘I’m not a king anymore, Merlin. I’m barely a detective,’ he added and laughed. A strange smile filled up his face, drifting back and forth like a tide. ‘All I know for certain is that we’ll never be just happy, and we’ll never suffer forever either. I _know_ that I can’t stop loving you, and the thing that made me a wreck the last few months was the thought of losing you. I don’t want to live a life where I can’t give you shit, where I can’t call you over the smallest thing, where I might forget the way you make me feel when you kiss me.’

  Merlin felt the heat again, his heartbeat thump slowly and with purpose.

  ‘You’re not proposing are you?’ he joked, the smile he forced gone as soon as he’d conjured it up. ‘The timing is a little off if—’

  Arthur grinned at him. ’I’m saying that you need to get your shit together, Merlin.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m saying that you will never be alone,’ he added slowly and moved closer. Merlin let him put a warm hand on his neck, the other holding his wrist so that his thumb stroked the sensitive skin over the veins. ‘You are everything you need to be and everything I could ever want in a partner. A best friend. A lover.’

  ‘I hate that word,’ he murmured, staring into Arthur’s cheek, down to his chest, up to his mouth.

  ‘Lover?’ Arthur repeated. Merlin shivered and scrunched up his face. It didn’t feel like it fit him, like it was right. It was something people spoke about in cheesy romance novels and that Shakespeare wrote about in his comedies and tragedies. It wasn’t him.

  ‘It makes me cringe.’

  Arthur leaned in closer and Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur kissed his cheek, then moved his mouth to his ear where he said, ‘It shouldn’t.’

  His skin had goosebumps all over now, and his heart wasn’t stopping its steady rhythm. It was so loud as it beat in his chest he knew Arthur could hear it. He opened his eyes again in time to see Arthur press forward and kiss him, his hand moving down his chest to his hip. Merlin breathed in Arthur’s next breath and opened his mouth to the soft heat and pushed back with his own tongue, lips, breath. His hands snatched at Arthur’s t-shirt, found the skin underneath it, pressed his fingers into its warmth.

  ‘Merlin,’ Arthur mumbled against his mouth and pulled back. ‘Hey—’

  Merlin moved forward and kissed him again, eyes squeezed shut. This time Arthur moved a hand up to cover his mouth gently. He was grinning, pink lips shining. Merlin tried to disagree with stopping, but it came out a low grumble into Arthur’s palm. He stuck his tongue against it until Arthur pulled it back with a surprised smile.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ he huffed. ‘I just wanted to say—’

  ‘Stop. This is something we need to work on,’ Merlin breathed, fingers still splayed against Arthur’s stomach where he dug in a little bit to see his face flush with more surprise. ‘We talk too much, don’t you think? We use deep conversation like a comfort blanket. We’re connected, but safe in what we were and still are.’

  Arthur huffed. ‘I feel like I want to disagree.’

  ‘You’re allowed to,’ Merlin smiled and kissed his neck. He nipped the skin with his teeth and breathed in the smell of his aftershave. When he pulled back Arthur’s face was flushed again. ‘But I think we should embrace danger a little more.’

  ‘As long as you promise to stay with me. No running off without telling me after we, you know,’ he said and cleared his throat.

  ‘Deal,’ Merlin said and kissed him again, tugged at his shirt until Arthur pulled it off. When Arthur angled him towards the bed and pushed him down towards it the towel finally came free and fell to the floor. Merlin’s heart thumped again and the heat in his cheeks sprang up lower, hotter. The sensation of the duvet cover on his naked skin made his head fog up, twice fold with Arthur’s lips and hands and breath running over his face, ear, and neck. When Arthur’s trousers brushed against him he groaned.

  ‘Oh my god,’ he said. ‘Please get your clothes off.’

  He opened his eyes to see Arthur grinning above him as he lifted his hips to slip out the belt. The motion was smooth and the sound made his stomach twist up even more. Merlin embraced the embarrassment, the exposure, when Arthur looked down at him, one towel less and very turned on.

  ‘That would make it too easy,’ Arthur said and kissed his lips, collar bone, chest, every bruise he could find, another kiss above his belly button. Every kiss was soft and barely there.

  ‘Arthur,’ Merlin breathed, then he leaned down again and kissed the scar. All he saw was the top of Arthur’s blonde head, his hand on his exposed hipbone. He felt the breath that ran over the healing skin.

  When Arthur looked up the smile was gone and his blue eyes were nebulous. ‘You want this?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Merlin said, the feeling of hot breath over his abdomen making his body flush with more heat. ‘Yes.’

  Arthur didn’t look away as the hand on his hip bone moved lower, closer, fingers trailing along his skin. Merlin didn’t know what to do other than grab fistfuls of the duvet cover and watch, bear with the tension, the _heat_ , until Arthur looked away and moved lower. His other hand hooked itself under Merlin’s knee and moved his right leg up to the side to expose him completely. He moved his kisses and hot breath closer, until he was there. Until Arthur’s heat consumed his own. Merlin craned his head back into the bed and let it all go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Promise:
> 
> This Christmas (Underneath the Christmas Tree) by Fascinations Grand Chorus  
> Circuit Breaker by Wildcat! Wildcat!  
> Run Me Out by Zola Jesus  
> To Finally Be Seen by Rhiannon Bannenberg  
> LIFE - PURITY RING REMIX by Health, Purity Ring  
> Toronto by Tusks  
> Yes (Love Theme from Lost River) by Chromatics  
> Yes (Symmetry Mix) by Chromatics


	12. Highly Disturbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a tiny warning that the second part of this chapter delves into some dark waters, arguably the first too, but since you've read this far I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle :) x

Mordred kept down low as he followed the sound of their voices. Will's last text, _Wish me luck Leir x_ , was enough for him to realise and he'd left immediately. Morgana had disappeared the night before, the make-shift bed on his sofa folded up and empty when he woke up.

He gripped the key tightly in his hand as he crouched down behind an industrial metal conveyor belt. The air was cold, chemical, and the long fluorescent tube lighting high above had broken years before. It had led him to an abandoned building in Whitechapel, a warehouse of some kind, with rusted towering vats and belts and discarded boxes. Cliché barely covered the choice of location. Graffiti scarred the chipped and dirty brick walls and a strong wind whistled in through broken glass, gaps in the walls, and the closed metal sheet of an entrance which quivered and rattled.

'I don't see why you bother. Any of you.'

Mordred crept along, the key burning hot with his magic as he reached the voices and movement. Divination magic was new but Morgana had taught him a locate spell she'd used herself to follow Arthur and Merlin before leaving. The key to Will's flat, the key he'd given him two weeks earlier, anchored the magic as it hunted down its owner.

'You're outnumbered and underfunded. You can't control everything, William,' Katja said as she watched over four other masked people as they loaded a van. It had been parked with its back facing the open space, machinery and mess cleared out of the way for what must have been a packing and storage facility for their weapons. A stop-over point. A cloth tied roughly between Will's teeth to the back of his head kept him quiet. They'd tied him down to a metal chair with dull heavy chains, several more hanging in various areas of the warehouse space, or resting on the ground, still attached to machines or pulley systems. 

'It was fun, don't get me wrong. Watching cops try and fail to infiltrate is a highlight of my job.'

One of the others laughed through the strange deep blue ski mask pulled over their head. Mordred stuffed the key into his jean pocket and shuffled closer to the side of one of the vats, peeking out the side as quietly as he could. They were maybe six metres from him and the van and the load, probably weapons, nine metres away. He didn't have a weapon of his own, he didn't have any Kevlar, he hadn't told anyone where he was going. He hadn't thought any of it through.

She pulled out a handgun. 'Anyway, we've got to go. Nice try but you lot have to learn to do better.'

Mordred wiggled his fingers a little and felt the warm tickle respond. He lifted his hand up in front of his face, fingers spread, and concentrated on the gun in her hand. There were several things he could do, but Will was there. Anything big could hurt him. Anything big could reveal him.

Will tried saying something, a low muffled sound soaked up by the cloth, before Katja raised the gun and stepped up to him. He struggled against the chains, tried to knock himself to the side or back, but a masked man came up and held him in place.

Mordred felt the heat, the sweat run down his temple, the way his heart thumped, and closed his fingers. They crunched into something hard, broke through it, and met his palm sharply, nails digging into the flesh.

'Do it already,' the man said.

'I'm waiting for the train,' she snapped. It came, a rumble that shook dust and metal shavings on the ground, and then it roared. Metal wheels screeched against tracks above them and Mordred saw the white-hot flash a second before he heard the bang. She screamed, hand jerked back as the gun hit the ground, cradling it bloody against her chest. Will struggled harder than before and Mordred angled his hand towards the man holding him down. The impact of the body against his palm shook down his arm and Mordred watched him crash backwards into a pile of the empty boxes. 

'Over there!' someone shouted and Mordred heart thumped hard in his chest. As two of them rushed towards him. Will fell backwards in the chair and chains. Mordred ducked around the other side of the vat and imagined the crack and snap, the glow of metal, and waved his hand down across his sight of Will, clenched his fist, and yanked it back. Chains broke and flew out from under and around him like wild, burning snakes.

Katja bent down and snatched the gun, tried firing it again, failed, and barked back to the last masked worker. 'Pack it up and go!'

Will scrambled to his feet and tackled the one she'd given the orders to, avoiding the chains which still whipped through the air. Before Mordred could help something cold stabbed his arm and he spun around in time to duck away from the knife that slashed out towards him. A woman, shorter, lither, faster, she kept swiping until he stumbled back into the open area. Mordred kicked out her legs to see the other one pull up another gun.

It fired, the bullet shot through his shoulder, pain, and then he set it off in their hand. Another flash, bang, and a bloody arm. The old machinery surrounding them began to grind and pump, mechanical arms rising and falling, spinning, scraping. The cacophony was painful as it cut through the still cold air. His shoulder throbbed as it bled and he rammed air against them with a push of his left arm.

They slammed into the metal vat with a low hollow thud and echo. The woman brought the knife at him again, and he blinked back tears at the pain in his shoulder, caught the blade with his hands, pushed back until he could slam his elbow into her jaw, turn the blade around their hands and shove it into her stomach. He held it there for a second, twisted and tugged it back. She clutched at the wound, eyes wet behind the mask.

'Mordred?' Will said through quick breaths behind him. He dropped the knife and it clattered against the concrete a second before the woman slumped down. Mordred caught his own breath and turned to see Will, the masked man still on the ground, and Katja, with a bloody hand and nose, bring another knife up from the ground and lunge at him. 

'Stop!' he yelled and threw his arms out. Warm skin, bone, a beating heart, pressed and cut into his hands as the magic took his cry, twisted and amplified it above the scraping metal. Katja's chest caved in with a wet crunch, a choked off gasp, and a silent fall. Will's eyes were wide and he looked back down. Mordred's heart thumped heavily and he felt the burn in his shoulder, over his chest, in his eyes. 

'Holy fuck,' Will huffed, stepping back away from her, hands up to his head. 'What the fuck. What the fuck. Mordred, what— She— _Fuck_.'

Mordred's hands were hot and his body shook, the pain distant as his heel bumped against the woman he'd stabbed with Katja's broken body resting four metres away.

‘I—' he breathed, paused, and clenched his teeth as another shudder ran through him. ‘Stop— I told— She was going to kill you, she— They were—‘

He pressed his hand against his chest, skin burning underneath his shirt, and turned around aimlessly to see the bodies. Just like the boys at the railway tracks. 

'Hey, Leir. Look at me.'

Mordred ignored him. He'd done it again. Killer. _Monster_. 

'Mordred!' Will shouted and grabbed him by the shoulders. 'Hey, you're going into shock. Shit, man, you got shot, just— Do you have your phone on you?'

Heartbeat. He'd felt her heartbeat under the bone and flesh in his hands. It had been warm and he'd broken it. He'd torn it apart.

Will sighed. 'Oh for fuck's sake—‘

Mordred watched him rummage through his pockets as the magic tingled in his hands and up the back of his neck. The contact was brief, a little rough, then Will had the phone and held it against his ear, one hand still on his unharmed shoulder. He nudged Mordred gently and led him over to another metal chair rested back against the brick wall and sat him down.

'Marten,' he said into the phone, voice raised over the screeching mechanics which whirred and pumped painfully around them. His gaze was fixed on Mordred. 'Track this phone and send over an ambulance, forensics, and Kestrel officers. We've got a shipment here and four suspects down, including Katja. I'm fine. It's Leir. Don't ask me why he's here just be grateful. He saved my arse and got himself shot in the process. Will do. Right. Yeah, I've got it. I'll report in after this is under control.'

Mordred swallowed thickly. He kept shivering, hands trembling, and stared blankly into Will's chest. Dark fabric, red stains, smudged with the brownish dust and dirt spread across the concrete ground. Will's large brown eyes came into focus, his chest out of view, and a warm hand pressed against his neck.

'I've got to get pressure on that, Leir. Help is coming so don't bleed out just yet, yeah?'

He watched Will strip off a hoodie, let him lift his arm, teared up at the pain, and felt the cloth wrap around and push against the heat in his shoulder. Then the pressure built, pressed into him as Will bit his bottom lip and stared at the shoulder, hands locked around it.

'Talk to me, Leir,' Will said above him. 'How'd you find me?'

His shoulder throbbed as blood pulsed around it, out of it, down inside his tingling arm. The buzz of warmth in his hands travelled up and stitched it up, the heat amplified and burning underneath the hoodie, Will's hands, and he inhaled sharply. With the next breath the heat was gone, the magic cold and tired, and he tried to focus.

'Your key,' he said and moved a hand up to Will's. It was warm, and resisted when he tried to pull it away, but with a second attempt he yielded. Will tugged the hoodie down his upper arm and pulled Mordred's torn and bloodied white shirt down to reveal the skin. Blood, dirt from the fight, but no open wound. Just a pale circle-shaped scar.

'My key?'

Mordred studied the way Will's grey eyes gazed at the closed wound. 'Yeah.'

'I got hit in the head, didn't I? Or did you?’ he asked and looked at him, searching his face for an answer.

'We're not crazy,' he said.

'Sure about that?'

Mordred wet his lips and stood up, his body trembling despite the healing magic.

'Watch,' he said and took Will's hand, the one with broken fingers and bruised skin, and concentrated. Bones clicked back into place while a soft yellow glow coiled under, around, and through the skin. It lit up the discolouration and bleeding beneath until it faded entirely. 'Magic exists. I have it. I used it to— I wanted to tell you, but—'

Will frowned and let out a broken, breathy laugh. 'No way. Now way is this real.'

'Don't hate me,' Mordred said and held onto the fixed hand. ‘Plea—'

'Why would I hate you?' he cut in. 'You just rescued me like some fucking damsel in distress, man. I was about to get my brains blown out and you stopped it. Holy fuck, Leir.' 

He pulled him up onto his feet into a bone crushing hug which softened a second later. Will's hand held the back of his head with the other around his waist to press him closer. It was warm, safe, made his stomach flutter and heart beat a little faster. Mordred settled into it. His vision blurred. Her heart, her pulse, was still in his hands. The _crunch_ , god the way the bones had just cracked and crumbled so _easily_. 

'I killed them, I—'

'Did what you had to.'

The white noise of the machinery scraped to a stop. An eerie silence filled the warehouse and Mordred listened to Will's breathing, felt his chest move against his own, and hugged him tighter. A train passed overhead near by, the wheels screeched, the air shook with the noise, then it was gone and a phone rang. Will pulled back and Mordred forced himself to let him answer. Nothing lasted forever and hugs were no exception.

'Mordred,' Will said, the frown back, voice low. 'I thought Morgana Pendragon was dead.'

He showed him the caller I.D. on the phone.

_Morgana La Fey is calling. . ._

Heat washed through him and his stomach bottomed out.

 

* * *

 

The bathroom floor was wet and cold beneath his bare feet. The rush of the water spilling over the tub's curved porcelain rim dragged his attention up to see the girl smiling at him. Her eyes were dull gold, lips faded pink, and her hair soaking wet. Alexander Denton's girlfriend and one and only murder victim. Amanda Matthews.

'Are you going to stand there all night?' she asked and lifted a bare leg out of the spilled-over bath, dipped her big toe back in at the opposite end and gave him a wolfish grin. Arthur knew he was naked, that she was dead, that the one of her arms resting on the flowing edge of the tub ended in a jagged stump at her elbow, and knew he wasn't going to stand at all. 

His steps sloshed as he moved toward the tub, stepped up and lowered one leg into the warm water, and rose to lower the second. She scooted further away, knees drawn up, to make room and he sank into it. The water was soothing and came up to his collar bones once he'd settled in. Looking into the deep water he noticed its pinkish hue, and glancing at the taps saw it there too. Odd.

'Scared?'

He glanced back to Amanda- Morgana. Hot embarrassment crashed through his body and he crossed his legs. She smirked, her forearm missing, dark hair heavy with the water, clothes soaked through and clinging too close to her body.    

'Of what?' he asked, blinked, the heat gone. His clothes were floating a little in the water, suit trousers and white collard shirt. No tie. Where had he put it? 

'You know what. Don't play pretend with me,' she said, smiled to reveal her canine, the blood covering her teeth.

'You're hurt,' he pointed out. Blood always had an unhappy source. 'You need to go to A&E.' 

But he didn't want to move. The water was very warm, the pink diluted blood, but it didn't bother him. Maybe that's what made it warmer, comfortable. Inside and outside of his body, that could hardly be a bad thing. Was there a bleeding heart somewhere in the plumbing? It would cost a lot to fix something like that.

'It's too late, Arthur. Why don't you just kill me? It'll be a lot less fuss, and I trust you. Here,' she said and pulled out a Glock 17 from the water with her complete left arm. She held it out to him by the trigger guard.

'It's wet, it won't work.'

'I really thought you could at least do that. Not much of a brother, are you?'

'Half,' he corrected, staring at how the black metal leaked water. 'Half brother.'

'Half king, half Detective Sergeant,' Morgana said, head tilting to the side. 'Half a person, really. I suppose you have to be. How else could you kill Phoebe.'

'What?' He focused back on her face, no longer smiling. 'I didn’t—'

'Might as well have,' she cut off and shrugged and took hold of the gun by its grip, index finger wrapped around the trigger. She rested that armed hand on the edge of the bathtub. 'If you hadn't gotten yourself attacked Merlin wouldn't have hurt her. Magic's dangerous, remember. Merlin is dangerous.' 

She stopped, the smile grew back like a sprouting autumn leaf. 

'Set any fires in your youth?' she asked after the pause.

'Stop it,' he said, swallowed, ' _no_ , I—'

Arthur blinked and took a sip of the glass of water at his desk on their floor of operations at Scotland Yard. His tie was secure under the collar of his dry shirt. No one else was there. The sky was overcast, and threw a hazy gray over the windows which infected the still air. He frowned. It was the middle of the day. Why was he alone?

Pushing back in the chair he stood up and noticed the obvious blood spatters over the glass wall of one of their main conference rooms. On the table behind the glass he saw a leg, knee bent over the wooden table edge, shoe and sock intact but no trousers, no owner. Giving the floor a once over he took stock of the body pieces, hands, torsos, hands, various internal organs strewn about like some kind of food-fight gone wrong. All unidentifiable without their heads. His vision glazed as the sickness surged, which he swallowed, coughed, squeezed his eyes shut. Taking eight deep, long, breaths he steeled himself and opened his eyes. With careful manoeuvring he walked to Kilgharrah's office, stepping over strands of intestines, various pieces of flesh, and knocked at the open door as protocol and manners dictated. 

There weren't any body pieces or blood here. Trees instead cracked the walls, floor, and twisted out with mossed-over aged bark, with leafy motionless branches canvassing the ceiling. Roots covered the ground, dug under and over the carpet. Sunlight sliced through some green leaves, shining into the room from outside. The colours were wrong. The light, it wasn't white or gold, it was closer to purple. Then the leaves weren't green, like they should be in summer, they were dying too soon, slipping into suits of orange and red prematurely.

A soft gust of wind behind him forced him to turn around out of curiosity. Merlin was leaning against one of the desks, jeans and burgundy button-up shirt peppered a darker and blended red in some places, soaked through close to black in others. He wiped his hands on his jeans, but there was too much blood to clean them properly. He hadn't noticed him yet. He was too busy examining his hands, running his fingers along the blood caught between them.

'What happened?' Arthur asked him. 'What's going on here?'

Mordred stepped up beside Merlin, out of thin air, the chains of his armour shifting cooly with the motion. He leaned in to Merlin's neck and kissed it.

'You want to?' Mordred asked him. Merlin looked at him, then faced Arthur, expressionless. His eyes were bored, vacant, observant.

'Any preference, sire?' he asked, voice just as empty.

'What happened here?' Arthur repeated.

'Poor puppy, he doesn't realise,' Mordred said and gave him a shadowy smile. 'Would you rather, Highness.'

Arthur frowned. 'What?'

'Fuck,' Merlin said, gently, pointedly, 'Marry. Kill.'

His face held no expression at all.

'I know what he'd do,' Mordred started. 'Kill me, marry Mithian, and fuck you. He's already done two out of three.'

'You?' Merlin countered.

'Fuck you, obviously. Kill him, again obviously, and marry—‘

When Mordred paused to consider Merlin offered up, 'Morgana?'

'Sure,' he agreed. 'Bet there's great life insurance for the Pendragons.'

'Arthur?' Merlin turned his bored eyes back to him.

'I don't understand,' Arthur said.

'Merly,' Mordred cooed, 'it's your go first, then Pendragon's.'

Merlin rolled his eyes. 'Fuck Mordred, Marry Arthur, Kill Morgana.'

'She's already dead,' Mordred challenged. 'Try again.'

'Kill Guinevere, then?'

'Great,' Mordred grinned. 'How easy was that?'

'Stop this!' Arthur shouted. His heart rate had grown harder, violent, watching them, hearing them. ‘Merlin—'

'Changed my mind,' Merlin said and gave him a dreamy smile. 'Fuck Arthur, marry him, and kill him too.'

'Cheating,' Mordred said with a glare.

'Who likes to play by the rules. I'm his and he's mine. Different rules, technically,' Merlin continued, the smile still in place, fixed with strange allure. 'Anyway the honeymoon sex was too great to pass on.'

'Was?' Arthur asked, reeling, then he felt the weight on his left hand. He looked down to see the gold wedding band on his ring finger, leaves etched across the surface. His heart stopped. ‘But—'

'Tell me you love me one last time?' Merlin huffed into his ear. In his bed, he was covered by Merlin's naked body, skin burning up with the proximity, the ecstasy. Arthur was pressed into the mattress and pillows, Merlin over him, riding him. 'Tell me to stay with you.'

'I love you, Merlin,' he said through deep then shallow breaths, his head swimming, hands holding onto warm skin, pressing in to the hip bones beneath. ‘St—Stay with me.'

'Forever,' Merlin whispered, lovingly, groaning into his ear. Arthur's next breath caught and his thoughts sharpened, screamed at him, with the white-hot pain in his gut. He looked down between his own chest and Merlin's as it rose away a foot or two. Merlin continued to move against him and exposed the guilty hand. It was holding a dagger, the hilt of which sat flush against Arthur's stomach. Merlin pulled it out, watched him watch the motion, revealed the blade smeared red. As Merlin rose, he pulled the dagger up, sharp edge catching on the skin of his stomach, and stabbed him again as he rocked their hips together and moaned. He saw then felt it push inside with fire, just under his ribcage. Arthur choked on his own breaths, already losing control, blood humming, and Merlin leaned back down, their chests together, and bit his earlobe. ' _Forever_.' 

'Arthur!'

Pressure on his chest pulled his eyelids open and he drew in a sharp breath, but no air came in. His vision was blurred and then cleared into the light of his bedroom, Merlin's ruffled head blocking the direct light as he stared down with wide eyes. After he'd recovered from the instinctual flinch Arthur glanced down, saw Merlin’s hand on his chest, saw it stop shaking him.

'You were crying in your sleep. I had to wake you up,' Merlin rambled, hand sliding up to his face. Arthur sucked in more air and pushed his hand away. 'Arthur?'

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, turned away from Merlin, wiped his wet face and concentrated on keeping his breathing calm. The world around felt small, shrinking, and it was now dark outside. His hands shook and he stood up, still naked. He grabbed a pair of clean boxers and slipped them on before leaving the room and padded over to the kitchen. 

The microwave clock read 16:03. He turned on all the lights he could, kitchen, living room, dining room, splashed his face with cold tap water in the kitchen sink, poured a glass of filtered of water, downed it, and slammed his hand into the fridge door. His hand stung, but the release, the brief surge of adrenaline, cleansed his thoughts. Teeth clenched too tightly together he relaxed his jaw and licked his lips.

Leaning his head against it he focused on reality, chest no longer heaving. No stab wounds. Dreams, just the _fucking_ dreams. Arthur stood up straight, stretched, noticed the musky smell which clung to his body, how it mixed with Merlin's scent, and groaned when his mobile rang out from the coffee table. Bloody timing.

He stepped down into the living room and swiped to answer, Kilgharrah's name across the screen.

'Sir?' he huffed.

' _I need you to get your team together and head over to the address I texted you. Holiday's over_ ,' Kilgharrah said. His voice had that dark tone again. The same tone as whenever he spoke about Arthur's fate.

'Murder by magic?'

' _Not sure, but I want your team on it in case. It's a double homicide, male and female found in Bedford Square Park. I understand Gwaine can't join you, but—_ ‘

'Why can't he?'

' _You haven't been told_?'

'Told what?'

' _He overdosed on something this morning. Percy got him to hospital in time, but he can't return to work until he's rested and cleared of an internal investigation—_ ‘

'Impossible,' Arthur cut in. 'That's not Gwaine, that’s—'

' _DS Pendragon, I need you to focus on the murder case for now. I know you've had a stressful Christmas and with Merlin missing again—'_

'He's with me.'

' _He is? Well then, get on it_ ,' he said, only fazed for a flutter of a second. ' _Call me with updates as the case progresses_.'

'Will do, sir.'

Kilgharrah hung up and Arthur threw the phone onto the sofa. He walked back to his bedroom. His stomach did something too teenage-ish for his liking when he saw Merlin there. Sat up, duvet pulled up around his waist, with the old library copy of Dashiell Hammett's _Maltese Falcon_ in his lap that he'd never given back. It's blank burgundy cover was frayed at the edges, aged pages turning at a impossibly fast speed.

'You can't read that quickly, can you?' he asked, the murder and dream and Gwaine forcefully forgotten for a moment. When Merlin looked up, eyebrows pinched together a little bit and eyes out of focus, his heart nearly stopped altogether.

'Hey,' Merlin said, closed the book between his palms and put it back to where Arthur had left it on the floor beside the bed. 'I heard you on the phone.'

'We've got to go. It's public again like King's Cross,' he supplied, skipping over any mention of Phoebe, or how that last case had ended and failed to actually close. Also avoiding the fact that he had no idea what had happened to Merlin in the three days he'd disappeared. He'd put together the Cailleach's involvement with the Dorocha, that 'Nix' had taken Merlin to his flat after the crime scene on Christmas day, but there were significant and essential gaps. They'd need to be filled quickly.

Merlin didn't even blink before he asked, ‘Dumped there or scene of the murder?'

'Let's go find out,' Arthur said, and then the dream came back, and he realised Merlin hadn't pushed him for any explanation. Still naked when he climbed out of the bed Arthur moved towards and stopped him.

'Aren't we going?' Merlin asked, almost equal height with him, his hair still a dark curly mess. Arthur leaned in closer, closed his eyes, kissed him, and held him there against him until Merlin laughed into his mouth. 

He pulled back. 'Okay, now we can go. We need to get you your own clothes so we'll already be running late. Can't show up at the scene in my spare jogging bottoms, can you?’

Merlin was still smiling, with questioning eyes, when he asked, 'Are you all right?'

'Let's go deal with this right now. We also need to keep,' he stopped, figuring out the words, ' _us_ , you know, being, you know—'

'Uh huh,' Merlin said, grinning, 'I have a good idea.'

'Yeah, we need to keep it under wraps.'

Merlin laughed.

'Seriously, Merlin.'

'As if half of Scotland Yard's CID haven't guessed already,' he countered.

'Outside of our murder team they probably haven't,' Arthur said and Merlin's smile dipped noticeably, 'and we need to keep it that way. You know we wouldn't be able to work together if anyone besides them and Kilgharrah found out.'

'Oh.'

Arthur watched as Merlin's eyes lost their focus, working through it. 'Never thought about it?'

'No.'

'You really are something.'

Merlin's expression had grown into a pensive frown and he moved out of Arthur's reach to grab the clothes he'd set out in the morning. After an hour of mostly quiet, changing clothes, questions about Gwaine which he deflected, they were in a cab driving past a crowded Russel Square to the crime scene. They sat closer together, and he was about to hold Merlin’s hand, to try it out, see if it could be something they did if no one looked, when Arthur’s phone buzzed and Kilgharrah’s name popped up on the screen again. He answered.

' _DS Pendragon, you need to come into the office after you’ve seen the crime scene. Yourself and DS Emrys need to explain what happened on the 19th,_ ’ Arthur’s heart rate spiked and his face grew uncomfortably hot as Kilgharrah spoke monotonously, ' _A witness has come forward with a recording on his phone and its contents are highly disturbing. For now it’s under my control but if this evidence goes public you will likely face charges of first degree murder. Don’t say anything for now, focus on the double homicide, and don’t discuss this with anyone. Say yes if you understand.’_

‘Yes.’

‘ _I’ll see you when you’re done._ ’ 

The call ended, Arthur clicked his phone off, and stuffed it into his trouser pocket just as they pulled up to a street next to the park. Merlin glanced over to him with curiosity as he stepped out.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said and joined him on the pavement, the cold wind somehow sharper, the sky flat and grey just like it had been in the dream. He followed Merlin around the edge of the black iron fence to the cordoned off entrance, a Uniform standing guard, two police patrol cars parked nearby. It took everything not to stop Merlin, tell him, freak out and break down. He couldn’t. Merlin had been through something massively fucked up, he knew he had, and they had to focus. _Focus_. They showed their warrant cards and ducked under the white-blue tape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Highly Disturbing:  
> Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons  
> Sleepwalker (feat. Joni Fatora) by Illenium and Joni Fatora.  
> Of The Night by Bastille  
> Cannibals by Kyla La Grange  
> * * *  
> Dark Star by Jaymes Young  
> Sleep Paralysis by Gabriel Bruce  
> Temple by Wilde  
> Empire & the Sun by The Moth & The Flame  
> Here We go by Extreme Music


	13. Point of No Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the ridiculous wait! I've been buried by final year essay work, dissertation, plus applying for an MA and other personal stuff. Last chapter was a slight bookmark of sorts too, but the plot is rolling on with this one so hope you enjoy! :) And thanks for sticking around xxx

     'How long ago were they killed?' Merlin asked one of the on-scene officers. He'd crouched down in the white forensics tent set up around the man, Aaron Ward, and studied him. The bad weather was going to be a problem for evidence. He could feel the rain weighing down the sky. It made the air cooler, wet, the wet earth already hanging heady and strong within it, even though it hadn't rained yet. The wind had picked up though, howling, whistling, clawing against the white fabric of the tent with vindictive intent.

     'About an hour and a half, sir,' she said from outside. 'His watch appears to have broken  in the struggle.'

     'Witnesses?'

     'None so far.'

     He glanced up at her. 'It's the middle of a Friday and this area isn't that quiet.'

     'I know that, but the first anyone knew that this had happened is when a girl came here for her lunch break. She was spending the day at the Weiner library working on her thesis. We cordoned everything off and called CID. We haven't touched the scene otherwise. Brought in forensics and all, but the victims- They're how the girl found them. Uniforms are canvassing the surrounding buildings now too, but it's been little more than a half hour at best.'

     Her dark brown eyes were intelligent, young, close to his own age if not younger. She looked to the side when Arthur called her over. He was examining the woman, Isabella Hemming.

     'Sir,' she looked at him, asking permission.

     He nodded to her and focused back on the man. He was face down on the pavement, eyes open, mouth open, and lips bloody. His grey tweed coat bunched up at the back of his neck where a scarf and the thick collar pressed in and wrapped around skin and dark brown hair. An hour ago. One hour beforehand they had been alive. Merlin sighed into the mask, his temple throbbing with the beginnings of a bad headache. He leaned in closer and tried to imagine the struggle which had led to the slice marks in the man's hands, his forearms, which of the nine stab wounds had really killed him. Where the point of no return had been.

     Magic had given him answers faster over the last year, but that wasn't an option. He almost hated himself for how reliant he'd become on his powers. If anything should have taught him different it was what Nimueh had done to him and Mordred. 

     Merlin rolled his neck in the suit and stepped out of the small protective tent to stretch. He turned to see Arthur heading off to the side, pulling his hood and mask down.  Merlin ducked in to examine the woman's body. They knew their names already, but the distance at a first glance helped. The woman had a ring on her ring finger, either wedding or engagement. Also stabbed nine times, only she was facing up, eyes closed. Nine times, deep wounds from what he could tell, and close if not identical locations. Once in the side of the neck, below the collar bone, beside the sternum, twice in the right side, one wound in the right hand, and three times in the stomach. Defensive wounds again, only this time more. A lot more. Cuts in her cheeks, fingers, deep and down to the bone.

     He stepped out and followed Arthur back out of the direct crime scene, under the tape, to where he was almost finished stripping the white skin and turning back into normal street-wear Arthur as he pulled on his coat. 

     'Hey,' he said. Arthur turned to him just as he pinged off the second shoe-cap. 'What do you think? Identical stab wounds, but Isabella has more defensive wounds.'

     Arthur frowned. 'You'd have thought they'd scream for help or something at least. Even manage to call 999. That no one saw or heard anything is weird. They were given access to this park to scout it for a fashion shoot, so we should start with the company and see where that gets us.'

     'You okay?' Merlin asked when Arthur's frown smoothed out into something expressionless and withdrawn. He was avoiding his stare.

     'Stab wounds, you know. We should head over to Wales Bonner's main office,' he said and walked out of the park. Merlin tugged everything off as fast as he could without tripping and jogged after him, coat in hand. Was Arthur put off because he'd seen him get stabbed over four months before? He was stronger than that. Merlin shrugged on his coat in time for a gust of biting wind, eyes watering with it, and then he saw Nix. Arthur, ten feet ahead, stopped. Nix gave him a slow, sharp smile, that strange light visible in his eyes even from several feet away. The camera flash caught Merlin off-guard and he blinked the splotches out of his eyes. He turned to his side to see the thirty-something man with the camera.

     'Hey,' Arthur shouted and walked over. 'This is an active crime scene. Get out of here before I have you locked up for interfering with a murder case.'

     'I know my rights. You can't stop me,' the man leered and lifted his camera to take another snap. Merlin moved, hand against Arthur's chest to stop him, and walked until he was a foot away from the man.

     'Which paper do you work for?'

     'Evening Standard. I'm not going to let you drop like the others have. You're a massive story waiting to break. Accused of murder, stabbed into a coma, not to mention the rumours 'bout you being a little skew.'

     Arthur narrowed his eyes. 'A little skew?'

     'Yeah, you know,' the guy flashed a half-grin which collapsed just as quickly, eyes darting between them. 'Gay.'

     'Bloody hell,' Arthur huffed.

     Merlin knew on any other day that comment wouldn't have meant a thing, but after the last few weeks, after spending his night with Arthur properly, the second time to have every been with him that way? It took all he had to control a blush and the vitriol he felt crawl into his thoughts. 'Two people have been murdered. Report that, not me. I'm no one, understand?'

     'Oi!' Arthur called back to one of the Uniforms. 'Escort this man away from the crime scene.' 

     The tawny-haired woman nodded and started towards the cameraman. He lifted his hands and took several steps back, just before he put the camera out front again. Merlin heard it _click_ and when the Uniform picked up her pace he walked off without another word or glance. Arthur was standing closer to him, behind his right shoulder, but when he turned he saw Nix had moved.

     He stood only three feet from them with an amused grin. 'A dateless bargain to engrossing death is sealed with a righteous kiss.'

     'We don't have time for this,' Merlin said and was about to walk away when he realised Arthur hadn't made any motion to move as well. ‘Arthur—'

     'What are you doing here? Was this you?'

     Nix gave him a calm look. 'The reporter or the murders?'

     'Either.'

     'Neither.'

     Arthur's jaw clenched. 'I don't give a rat's arse what went on between you and Merlin-'

     'Don't you, though?'

     'All that matters is that you are a significant person of interest in a string of unusual deaths and are perverting the course of justice by—‘

     'Standing on a public street?' Nix asked with a small smile. 

     Merlin put a hand on Arthur's arm and stepped closer. 'What do you want, Nix?'

     'To make sure you're all right, darling,' he replied.

     ' _Darling_?' Arthur mimicked with disbelief and venom.

     'Arthur,' Merlin quickly said and tried to fill the words with control and strength. He had to believe that he could handle this. 'Give us some space for a minute.'

     He gave him an incredulous wide-eyed stare. 'What?' 

     'Just trust me, okay?'

     He walked forward, tapped Nix's arm as he passed and made sure to keep the touch as fleeting as possible. Arthur stayed put, glaring, and once Merlin knew they were out of ear shot he stopped. They had crossed the road and now stood by the row of Georgian Grade I listed buildings. 

     'Go away,' he told Nix, arms crossed against the biting wind.

     'We went all the way here for you to say that?'

     'Go,' he paused, 'away.'

     'You were meant for greater things than that, Merlin,' he said and gestured over to Arthur. 'You know you were. That's why you confided in me on Christmas. That's why you came to me and not Arthur or Gwaine—'

     Sickly heat sparked through Merlin's core. 'How do you know about Gwaine?'

     Nix frowned gently then it smoothed away again. 'He was at my Christmas Eve party, remember?'

     'We didn't use our real names.'

     'I've done my research.'

     He narrowed his eyes. 'I thought you only found out on Christmas Eve.'

     Nix smiled wide and slow. 'Caught me.'

     He didn't exactly feel on edge around Nix, he wasn't scared of him, if anything he felt curiosity. The kind of curiosity you felt when you heard something move in your house and you were supposed to be the only one there. Indulge the curiosity and you'd reach fear, concern, grab something heavy and go look. Let it go and you'd go on with your life, or so you'd hope. You could believe that nothing was ever there.

     'I told you about the threads that connect us all,' Nix started, but Merlin sighed and cut in, 'I have to go.'

     'You and Arthur have a peculiar thread.'

     'Please stop.'

     'Now you two aren't quite star-crossed lovers, but there's no denying you come from different and wildly opposed worlds,' he continued. Merlin wanted to not care about what he said, but he did. He hated that he did, but he cared and where that came from he had no idea. He loathed it, wanted to tear its throat out, snap its caring neck, gut it top to bottom. 'And Shakespeare made a point I feel is appropriate for your and DS Pendragon's budding relationship.'

     'I don't need relationship advice from a stranger.'

     Nix didn't seem to hear him. 'I'm paraphrasing here, but he said something like, that with a righteous kiss lips seal a dateless bargain to engrossing death.'

     'So you said earlier. Very ominous and disturbing, so thanks for that, now goodbye.'

     Nix scoffed. 'You must feel it.'

     'Feel _what_?'

     'That you and Arthur won't end well.'

     Merlin's stomach twisted and struggled to swallow with how dry his throat was. It wasn't a feeling or premonition. He had every right to be scared that they wouldn't work. 'Another threat?'

     'The truth, Merlin. We can change our fate, and I believe you had the chance and chose not to take it. I believe that you even felt it, something off, a disconnect, when you met him,' he explained. Merlin countered everything he said in his mind. It hadn't been a disconnect, it had been missing memories, a life together buried in time. It wasn't bad or good. It just was. 'You still chose him. The man from a world that will never understand. You might not know the date, but you struck a bargain with death, and I mean _real_ death, when you chose him.'

     'If I see you again I'm arresting you.’

     'On what charges?'

     'Harassment, stalking, obstruction of justice, interference with our investigation.’

     'And what if I were to tell them we spent a night together on Christmas? That you were with me those three days helping plot how we'd evade any police interference?’

     'They wouldn't believe you.'

     'I have proof.'

     'No, you don't.'

     'Video and physical evidence. What video you might ask, well I'm a cautious man and protect myself by all means necessary, including surveillance in my own flat. Then there's your saliva on beer bottles and your hair fibres and blood in my flat.'

     'How would you explain the blood?'

     'You like it rough,' Nix said without hesitation, smiling to reveal a canine. It then smoothed out into something soft and close to charming. 'You're on a knife's edge, darling, and I'm the knife. No matter what you decide, which way you fall, and you _will_ fall, you will be cut.'

     Merlin tried to keep his expression blank, stern, but he felt it breaking. He turned around and walked towards Arthur, heart thumping, adrenaline making his hands shake as the wind rushed ice into his skin and thoughts.

     'Let's go,' he said and took Arthur's hand to pull him along and away. He didn't care about where they were headed, just away. Electricity crackled through his skin where they touched and he managed to take a calming breath.

     'Merlin, what's wrong?'

     Arthur walked along with him and held his hand in return, squeezed it, and Merlin realised they'd made it to the imposing shadow of Senate House Library. The entire area was sharp with something old, large overhanging trees, dark wood, solid and strong architecture which stamped _power_ into the air. It was quiet here at the intersection between Keppel and Malet street, the darkness making every sound sharper, making it feel closer and distant at the same time.

     'Merlin,' Arthur said and pulled them to the side of the pavement. Merlin stared past his shoulder at the weathered sandiness of the tiered library, at the dark and old trees which struck out of the pavement like a watch-guard. 'Talk to me. I don't need to explain that if you and Nix have interactions off-book it will compromise that investigation. So, talk.'

     'I know that. That's why I'm avoiding him.'

     'He said something that got to you.'

     Merlin flicked his stare to the right and met Arthur's eyes. He could still smell him, feel his skin against his, hear his heart pound in his chest. Stepping forward he closed his eyes and kissed Arthur. There was that flutter in his stomach, the nerves he hadn't felt for over a year. They flooded into him again, and his whole body relaxed as they moved their lips and tongues against each others'. Arthur's hand pressed against the back of his head, the other slipping out of his hand to reach inside his coat to his waist.

     When Merlin pulled back he took Arthur's hand again. Arthur was grinning at him, a new light in his eyes. They'd done that twice now, but this, _this_ , was different. The first Merlin had wanted to cry, wanted to disappear into him, had thought he was going to die for him. This time the world was ahead. Dorocha, Cailleach, Nix/Alvarr, and unresolved magic issues aside that is. 

     Arthur's smile slipped a little. 'We should get back to work. The victims both worked for Wales Bonner. My guess is they were scouting out the park for a fashion shoot or something. Their HQ is on The Strand, I'll just figure out how to get there. We should go have a chat with them. Elyan and Percy are going to notify and talk with their families. Oh, we’ll also need to head back to the Yard to reconvene.'

     'Wait,' Merlin said when he started walking again, iPhone out and Citymapper lit up green as he searched for the best route. Arthur paused as the app loaded and looked up at him, clearly trying to kill his smile. 'Nix, what he said—'

     'Yeah?'

     'He said I struck a bargain with death when I chose you. That he's this knife that's going to cut me no matter what I do,' he said and pulled his hand back to cross his arms. He watched Arthur's expression close in on itself. 'It was an obvious threat, and he's definitely not mentally stable, but—‘

     'But?'

     'It gave me this bad feeling.'

     Arthur flashed a surprised smile. 'A healthy reaction to someone threatening you, Merlin.'

     'It's more than that,' he added.

     'Do you think he's right? About the death thing?'

     'I have no idea,' Merlin said and sighed. 'It's not something we can understand, is it? Being here in the first place, it's all over our heads, isn't it?'

     Arthur regarded him with a careful look. 'Do me a favour?'

     'What?' he asked, apprehensive out of habit.

     'Stay with me.'

     Merlin frowned. ‘Uh—'

     'With Aredian only a few months ago and now this creep I think it's the smart thing to do,' Arthur explained and Merlin relaxed even more.

     'You'll be my personal bodyguard?'

     'I'll be a lot more than that,' he said with a dark look which broke into a toothy grin.

     Merlin smiled at him. 'Yeah.'

     'You'll stay round mine?'

     'Yeah. Unless you want to stay with me and Gwaine—‘ he trailed off and a new wave of fear crashed back into his head, foamy and soaking and bitterly cold. 'Let's sort this out fast and go check on him, yeah?'

     'Agreed.'

     They walked to catch the next bus that would get them there, within fifteen minutes if they were lucky, and when the 68 pulled up they climbed in and kept close to one another on the bottom deck. It was always surreal. A few minutes ago in a suit examining murder victims, now on the bus with Arthur they could be anyone. Anything. No magic, no jumping from a balcony, no- He pushed distractions aside as best he could and focused on the case, focused on the pattern of Isabella's wounds, how they matched Aaron Ward's. A coroner's report would give them more detail, but the wounds had been precise, controlled, which said something about the attacker. If emotional it was containable, if not it had something colder as motivation. He focused on the way his abdomen twinged when he moved too quickly, stretched too high, how he could have died, how he forgot about it entirely when Arthur kissed the scar, when he moved against him. _You like it rough._

     'We're here,' Arthur said and Merlin blinked the haze out of his eyes. They stepped out into rain. 

 

 * * *

 

     Will climbed off the motorbike behind him. 'She's up there?'

     'Yeah.'

     'And she's a witch?'

     Mordred locked up his Yamaha YS125 in the parking bay next to his building. The rain had started well before they'd left and now it poured relentlessly as they got back to the building in Pimlico. He checked his watch to see 22:49. No wonder he was so out of it. They'd spent the entire night and nearly their entire Friday giving statement after statement, writing up reports which Marten insisted on, and getting Will double-checked at the Royal London Hospital. Will had plied him with question after question throughout, just like the officer from Scotland Yard, and the IPCC, and Commander Marten. Throw in the witness statement, his own unnecessary excessive check-over from the paramedics, and his mind was about to close off from everything except a soft bed. Shock had hit and gone, leaving him exhausted. He was beyond tired, beyond worry, beyond a lot of things. Morgana calling, Morgana being alive at all, wasn't one of them. 

     'Basically,' he said.

     'And you're a wizard.'

     'I guess,' he said after a long yawn.

     'So Harry Potter—'

     'Fiction.'

     Mordred pulled off his helmet, ruffled up his hair, and led Will into the five storey cream terrace. The building was lit up by the halogen street lamps and one lamp hanging in the entrance before the door. It flickered on and bathed them in a clean yellowish light while he fished out his key. The shaking had thankfully stopped seven hours before.

     'Accurate fiction?'

     'Not really.'

     'Still awesome.'

     'Glad you think so, Will,' Mordred said, hid his smile, and led him inside to the lift.

     'Why aren't you a crime fighting superhero if you have magic?'

     'I'm figuring it out. We all are. I also have a job and a past,' he paused. He'd almost forgotten in the flurry of the day's events. Forgotten about the past, the soft ache in his chest just under the skin stained black by Morgana's spell, the fact he still hadn't seen Merlin.

     'Tragic backstory?'

     He sighed and pushed the _3_. The lift doors slid shut. 'Will, you need to understand that this is a big situation. It's too much to explain tonight for a start and anything you know, anything you see or hear or do-' he stopped and drove his stare into the other man. 'You can't tell anyone. Ever.'

     'Then it's a good thing the only person I'd care to tell is you,' Will said and Mordred's heart fluttered. The lift was small but filled with mirrors and light and he saw his reflection blush. 'Don't forget that we've got a mole in our operation, Commander Marten can be a massive tool, and most of my friends forget I exist when I disappear for months undercover. I haven't got a lot of trust or reliability in my life right now. Besides you.'

     'I don't have a lot of friends either.'

     'I'm not complaining. In our line of work they either wouldn't get it or they'd get killed in some revenge plot or taken hostage or something. Not being able to tell them anything is another point against it all,' Will explained. 'I'm just saying that you can trust me.'

     Mordred stared at him. 'I'm sorry I've given you another secret to keep.'

     'I'm upset you didn't share it sooner. Now,' he clapped his hands together, 'I'd love to meet the infamously presumed dead detective who committed patricide and psychologically tortured you.'

     Heat flashed through his body. 'Shit, I'd forgotten all that stuff was published in the papers. You've known this whole time. And don't look so excited by it.'

     Will watched him softly now. 'It's true? What she did to you?'

     He wanted to say no. He wanted to be normal for him. 

     Mordred drew in a breath and shrugged. 'Yeah, to a degree. Magic was involved.'

     'Do I get to beat the shit out of her?' he asked, calm and strangely serious.

     The lift stopped and he walked out onto his floor. 'No.'

     Will caught up with him. 'Don't tell me you're friends.'

     'That past I mentioned?' Mordred said as they walked down the hallway. 'This is where it comes in.'

     'Not even a kick in the shin? A barrage of insults maybe?'

     Mordred watched his door get closer and his heartbeat quickened. 'Why be hostile at all? I've moved on. We all have.'

     'There you go again. I know when you're lying, Leir. It's all in your voice and lips,' Will said and Mordred quirked a brow at him. 'What? I pay attention.'

     The tightness was back in his chest, the weight of what he'd done, on the massive cracks in his relationship with Morgana, Merlin, everyone he'd ever cared about. 

     'Anyway,' Will huffed out into the silence. 'I can't help it if I want to exert my genetic caveman instinct to protect my mate.'

     Mordred scrunched his face up. 'Gross. Please don't call me that.'

     'What should I call you then? What are we?'

     'You want us to be something?' he asked and stopped in front of his door. He took out the key, avoiding looking at Will, but the pull was strong. Will was staring, pointedly, with an expression that read _obviously_ or _really?_ or maybe _come on, man_. Mordred held off on unlocking the door. 'I've been distracted lately so haven't given it enough thought. I mean, I'd like to do it again.'

     'Save my life?'

     Mordred glanced down at his mouth, back up to his pale eyes, and licked his own lips at the memory.

     'Kiss you,' he said as nonchalantly as he could manage.

     Will nodded thoughtfully. 'I am a great kisser.'

     He smiled at him. 'When we find the time we can go somewhere together. A date, maybe?'

     'I'd like that,' Will said and mirrored his grin. Mordred felt fingers brush against his hand for a warm second. The weight, the cracks, hung between them. Secrets, darkness in his head and heart, but the warmth was still there. They still cared. They _wanted_ each other, whatever that meant. Will cleared his throat and looked at the door. 'Now, stop stalling.'

     Mordred sighed and turned the key in the lock. This was it. This was where worlds collided. The door opened. Will walked in ahead of him and out of sight. Mordred followed, locked the door, and heard Will call back to him from the living room.

     'Yeah, I have a feeling she isn't here.'

     He came up next to Will. 'What do you mean?'

     Mordred's stomach dropped out at the mess in the room. The coffee table was broken, glass shattered across the floor, and the papers and folders from his research were scattered everywhere.

     'I can't tell if there was a struggle or if she did this herself,' Will continued and walked further into the room to nudge some of the glass with his boot.

     Mordred's heartbeat faltered as a bone-deep cold pulsed out from his chest. He coughed with the shock and pressed a hand over his heart.

     Will glanced back at him. 'Mordred?'

     Another faltered beat, _thud-thump-thud_. Another frozen pulse and he wheezed in a panicked breath. Will caught him when he dipped down after losing his sense of balance.

     'Leir, man, what's going on?'

     _Thud-thump-thud._ Faltered, slower this time, and his next exhale came out visible in the warm air. Frozen from the inside out.

     Will pressed a hand to the nape of his neck to support him. 'That's definitely not normal.'

     _Thud_.

     One beat and then it stopped. It resonated through him as he sank to the ground. Will followed him down and slowed the drop. The ink burned on his chest, a pain he hadn't felt in months, _months_. Not since that day, not since the day Merlin had- 

     Everything faded. Colours muted, light strained out pale and thin, and sounds muffled, as the world around him was pulled into cold murky water. Mordred drew in a wet, choking breath, and felt another chest inhale in time with his own. He struggled as it filled his lungs with frost. When he let the breath go, frost and water and air, it left him numb and gasping for air that wasn't there. Shadows grew until they clouded his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Point of No Return:  
> Homeostasis by Nostalghia  
> Break The Chain by IAMX  
> Light The Way by Mikky Ekko  
> Man With No Shadow by KAV  
> Dress by Taylor Swift  
> ***  
> Junk by Kitten  
> Happiness - Single Mix by IAMX  
> Sleep Paralysis by Gabriel Bruce


	14. Starless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait again, and I hope you're all well! xx Updates should return to normal now :)

    Merlin waited outside Scotland Yard's new base in Embankment while Arthur finished questioning the victims' supervisor. Why did the dangerous mind-game-playing criminals always find him? The games, the way they looked at him, _into_ him. Aredian was a monster, he'd almost destroyed everything, but at least he hadn't pretended to be something else. Unlike Nix. _Alvarr_. Unlike Alvarr. He didn't remember that past life, but that's who he was. Just like himself and Arthur, the knights, even Kilgharrah. Alvarr was pretending to be some kind of friend, someone who understood him when no one else could, and it made him want to scream. It all made him want to scream, shout yell, get the emotion out, force the continuous pressure in his chest to go away.

     He sighed heavily and looked up at the snow. It was blurrier and lit up by the street lamps and string lights in the otherwise dark air. In the hours he'd been inside with Arthur and the others the rain had frozen and dusted and flurried into snowfall. It was heavy, a white blur, with flakes twirling around before they landed. It was collecting on the pavement, the road, the branches of the tall trees which loomed up in a line just before everything opened up with the Thames, traffic stretching across Westminster bridge, the London Eye a mountain of pink light in the night. It was a nicer view than their old building, but they hadn't finished the move yet. Most of the shift had happened while he'd been in hospital. He hadn't really been to the new building until today. _God_  it was cold.

     Merlin folded his arms tighter across his chest, dipped his chin into the scarf he'd double wrapped around his neck, and glanced back at the glass-filled neoclassical building. _New Scotland Yard_ was stuck across the front in letters lit up white. It was brighter, sharper, and more exposed. Everything seemed to change.

     'There you are.'

     He turned around to see Arthur walking towards him, expression tired and withdrawn.

     'Anything?' he asked.

     'No real enemies, and no suspects yet,' Arthur said, his stare darting away as he took in the snow. 'This weather's connected to the Dorocha isn't it?'

     'Might be.'

     Hesitation flickered across Arthur's face. 'Look, we've got to talk.'

     'About?' Merlin asked, suspicion perked up in his observations. They honed themselves in on Arthur's body language and intonation instinctually. It was bad, obviously, but more than that. Arthur didn't have that kingly stoic control over whatever it was. That meant it was personal . . .

     His next heart beat thumped out heavily and the warmth drained from his hands. 'Is it Gwaine?'

     Arthur shook his head. 'No, no.'

     'Is it about Nix?'

     'We do need to talk about that, but not right now. Come inside?'

     Merlin didn't budge. 'Arthur.'

     They shared a look of challenge and resistance. Arthur's poor facade of general concern and professional severity faltered. He didn't try to fix it up again.

     'Kilgharrah and I had a word about something, and it's time you were involved,' he explained.

     Merlin frowned. ’Why wasn't I involved from the start?'

     ‘The start was only this morning for one, so it’s not that bad, and for two you’ve been through enough.'

     Irritation spiked through his chest. 'I'm just like you, Arthur. I’m not some precious flower. You don't need to protect me from anything.'

     That was a lie. Merlin wanted Arthur to protect him from the Cailleach, from himself, from Nix. He wished he didn't want it. He was just like Arthur so far as they were reincarnated and detectives and dealt with terrible things on an almost daily basis. Nix was right on that front. Arthur would never know what it felt like to have magic, or what that meant.

     'We're in trouble,' Arthur said, clouds of his breath floating up with each word.

     'I know we are.'

     Arthur gave him a pointed look. 'You really want to talk about this outside? It's freezing.'

     'Talk.'

     Sirens started up somewhere near by, drawing closer as they headed towards St Thomas' Hospital. It was surreal to be so close to it now after being there for so long. He couldn't shake what had happened no matter how hard he tried.

     'Please,' Merlin added, softer now. It was late enough that foot traffic was minimal, and no one passed by close enough to overhear. Arthur regarded him with a look he could almost call hurt, which made his stomach twist.

     'Someone saw us when we found Phoebe,' Arthur said, controlled tone and voice.

     _No. Please, no._

     Merlin tried to keep his expression neutral and voice level. 'And?'

     'They have a video.'

     _Please._

     'They're blackmailing us,' Arthur continued. 'We think.'

     Merlin nodded a little, tightened his arms across his chest as a sick caved-in feeling pulsed in his chest. 

     'What's on the video?' he asked.

     'We are. Her too. You attacking her with magic. That's how it looks anyway.'

     'Do the others know?'

     'No, not yet.'

     Merlin clenched his teeth together for a second, a burning tightness having crawled its way up to his throat. 'He wants to tell them?'

     'Of course he does,' Arthur said, a flash of a sad smile crossing his face before it was sucked back into stern control. 'We should have told them about it when it happened, Merlin.'

     'But we didn't.'

     'Kilgharrah can't make this go away.'

     _No. Why now? Why_ now _?_

     'What do they want?' Merlin asked and swallowed to lessen the pain in his throat. 'You said they were blackmailing us.'

     Arthur frowned at him and shook his head. 'That's not how this works. We're the good guys.'

     'So we won't give into their demands?' Merlin continued to be sure. He knew that they wouldn't give in to any demands, but the part of him that had survival instincts rebelled against the idea of doing anything different.

     'No.'

     'He's throwing us under the bus, isn't he?'

     'He hasn't decided. I don't know. This won't end well for us, no matter what happens, not with the internal affairs investigation in the summer on our track record. I honestly don't think Bayard ever let go of the noose around our necks.'

     ' _My_ neck. He thought I was a killer, Arthur, not you. Which I am, by the way. I’m now a killer,’ Merlin said, the verbal confession making it hard to breathe. 'I'm so sorry.'

     ‘What—'

     'You're going to lose your job because of me. We'll probably got to _prison_ , Arthur. Prison.'

     Arthur stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. 'No, Merlin, we don't know anything yet. Until we do we can’t freak out, we can’t afford to.’

     'Fuck,' he huffed and swallowed again, the lump there now painful as it pushed heat up behind his eyes. ' _Fuck_.'

     'Merlin,' Arthur said and moved a hand to rest against his hip, moving even closer. The sensation was warm, comforting, made him think of their time together in the morning, how he'd almost lost it all when he stepped off the balcony. Reminded him that he _had_ stepped off the balcony. It had been a choice. He'd thought he'd made the right one then, but he hadn't. It had been so wrong and he hadn't realised until after. Footsteps to the side sounded and Merlin pulled back from Arthur quickly, his hand dropping away as they tried to stand casually. 'This is going to be hard. Pretending not to be— You know.'

     Merlin brushed past him and started toward the building. 'We have to. Let's get this over with.’

     He waited for Arthur to catch up and they headed into the light, uniformed officers passing by as they walked to the lifts next to the long reception desk. Five minutes later and Arthur led him into Kilgharrah's new office.

     Merlin copied him and sat down on one of the delicately carved metal chairs. Kilgharrah sat opposite, mouth set into a hard line. The office was spacious, glass-filled as well, and minimalistic with the recent move. Papers were piling up on the one side of the desk, a lamp on the other, and a large pot plant of some sort dominated one corner of the room.

     ‘DS Emrys, I assume DS Pendragon has updated you on the situation. I’ll be letting the rest of the Murder Team know tomorrow,’ the DCI said, and Merlin felt Arthur tense up a little next to him. What would they think? They already knew he wasn’t exactly alright, not with his behaviour in the summer, but this implicated Arthur as well. ‘For tonight I thought it best to leave you all to process the news of Gwaine's condition.'

    Merlin nodded. 'What do you think of what happened?'

     'I think you protected your friend. I think you saved the life of your king,' he said and took a sip from his dark mug. Maybe it was herbal tea. 'There's something else bothering you.'

     He blinked, breathed, and stared at the light wood of the table. Damn him and his instincts. 'No. There's nothing.'

     'You're sure?'

     ‘I—' he paused and looked into Kilgharrah's aged, watery eyes. He had the feeling they saw more than he ever could. Then he glanced to his side where Arthur sat, jaw set and blue eyes sharp with thoughts. His hair wasn't as long as it had been back in Camelot. Then he remembered the pink water, the glint of the razor blades. Why had it been such a _long_ day? He felt like too much had happened for only a handful of hours allotted to one day. He didn’t want to tell Kilgharrah about everything that was bothering. He’d tried therapy and that hadn’t exactly worked and like hell was he about top open up to his DCI, ex-dragon or not. But, as much as he hated the idea, he knew that if anyone could help it would be an ex-dragon, who just happened to be his DCI. Merlin took a deep breath, licked his dry lips, and decided to tell him: ‘I saw the Cailleach. She— She spoke to me.'

     'The Cailleach?' Kilgharrah asked and his stare grew fazed and distant. A frown carved itself into his old skin and he bore his watery eyes back into Merlin. 'You struck a deal with her?'

     'No, I didn’t,’ he said quickly. Why would he ask that? ‘Not with her anyway. I did make a deal with the spirits, the Dorocha I suppose, before I woke up from . . . wherever I was in the coma. I think that's why she's set on killing me. Making me want to commit suicide, actually.'

     'To close the rift?'

     'Yes.'

     'Curious.'

     'Why?'

     'It's not possible.'

     'What's not possible?'

     Kilgharrah sipped the tea again. 'How is she set on making you kill yourself?'

     Merlin leaned back on the chair. Something cold scraped across his scalp on the wrong side, within the bone, behind his eyes, beneath it all. Having Arthur with him helped stem the feeling, made it possible to mistake for another emotion like natural fear or maybe self-loathing. 'She's in my head. It's like this urge. It's screwed up. One second it makes sense, you know, and the next,' he paused and swallowed.

     'The Cailleach is powerful, but she can't control or influence the free will of another being. Especially not one like yourself.'

     Merlin scoffed. 'Evidently she can.'

     'I have to disagree.'

     'Then what? I imagined her appearing to me and making me jump off a rooftop?'

     'Yes.'

     'No. No,' he said and his body flushed with heat before the iciness washed it away. 'I'm not crazy.'

     The last he said to Arthur, who remained relatively quiet and observant. He was frowning and caught Merlin's look. It was one moment, and Merlin wanted to stop the conversation there to assure him that Kilgharrah must be wrong, that it had happened the way he thought it had, but Kilgharrah continued before he could.

     'It might not be about being crazy. You remember how things worsened in July and August time. Your magic might be the cause,' he reasoned. 'Merlin, you clearly crossed a barrier you were _meant to_ when you came back. Fate tied you to Arthur and so long as he lives it's in your heart to live as well. The power required to tear a rift without communing with the Cailleach is _immense_ , but with your age and your inheritance the Dragonlord's magic it's entirely possible. What is uncertain is the affect that kind of transition has on a mind.'

     He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

     'I don't mean to scare you,' he added, softer now. 'There's no way the Cailleach could make you commit suicide. If there is that wish, that will, it's your own. Your body may have held onto what nature intended. You were going to die, Merlin. A normal man would have. Your magic stopped it, but there is a dichotomy of sorts you will struggle with. I struggle with it myself.'

     Arthur shifted in his chair. 'What dichotomy?'

     'The mortal and the immortal. Psychologically speaking we are quite unique and that leaves us isolated. Merlin lived an immortal life and discarded it only to be summoned back to the living world. The body, the soul, or heart or mind, whatever you wish to blame, can only be put through so much until it,' he paused. 'Until it fades.'

     'Which means I imagined the Cailleach? I'm imagining this feeling?'

     'I'm not sure. She may have tried to push you to death in that first instance, but any lingering _urge_ is yours. Maybe a part of you has begun to fade. That part might be pushing you to _want_ to die.'

     Arthur cleared his throat. 'Wait, I don’t—'

     'He doesn't have to let it take the rest of him,' Kilgharrah cut in. 'You have options, Merlin. You can give in to what you're feeling and diminish, ultimately leaving the living world permanently. Another is to let the fading part leave you while you yourself remain, but what will be left— I can't say. You can then also resist it all completely. To not give in or let any part of yourself leave. That will either save you or destroy you completely. The choice is yours.'

     Merlin held his gaze.

     'What do you mean by fade?’ Arthur asked, leaning forward. ‘None of this sounds real.'

     Kilgharrah regarded him with sympathy. ’It isn't as physical as losing a limb. He could lose his memories, parts of his personality, he might lose his ability to care for other people, or his moods could be drastically altered to the extremes or complete lack thereof.'

     'How do you know?' Arthur pressed. ‘How can you know all of this when Merlin only just mentioned seeing the Cailleach? How can you be sure?’

     'I don't. I'm guessing with my experience of magic, both old and new, and things I’ve read in books long lost to time and decay.’

     'What about the rift, then? The Dorocha?'

     Kilgharrah took a deep breath and shifted his gaze back to Merlin. ‘Your death may well close the rift, if the Cailleach insisted it would, but it's not the only way. Your magic opened this rift so you could live. I'm sure your magic could close it so you don't have to die.'

     'My magic is unreliable lately,’ Merlin said lowly.

     'Probably an effect of the fading I mentioned.'

     'Great.'

     Kilgharrah smiled. 'You are a Dragonlord and warlock, Merlin. Your existence can't be anything _but_ complicated.'

    None of them said anything for several seconds. His mind was reeling, drowning, and Arthur seemed the same with the way his lips were pursed ever-so-slightly, with an unfocused gaze. Kilgharrah just observed them both from behind the desk.

     'I'm afraid I can't help you any further,’ he said, breaking the silence a little too soon. ‘I will say that your connection to Arthur and the others is remarkable, and if you need strength beyond your own you should look to them.'

     Arthur ran his hand through his blond hair. ‘As our superior, and as a, you know— With your _experience_ , well, the people with magic now, can we actually stop it? Should we?'

     'I'm not sure. You rose now of all times and it would make sense if you did because of this new magic,’ Kilgharrah said, slowly and with thought. 'It marks a new age. An age where the old and new can blend in ways the world has yet to see. You and Merlin may be here to guide and to protect. You could build this new world together.'

     Another beat of quiet passed through the three of them.

     Kilgharrah leaned back in his chair. ’Now you should both get some sleep, especially you Merlin. You look quite terrible. A bit too thin, even.’

     Merlin blushed at that, realised he hadn’t eaten . . . In days, technically. He didn’t feel like eating, and when he did it felt forced, and fake, and _wrong_.

     ‘Give us a second, Arthur?'

     Arthur, who’d stood up and started toward the door, paused. ‘All right. I'll wait outside for you?’

     He nodded and waited until Arthur had left before he said anything.

     'Kilgharrah,' Merlin started and took a slow breath. 'I didn't want to kill her. I hope you know that.'

     'I do.’

     'If you can save Arthur's career by burning mine do it. Promise me.'

     'I can't do that. Even keeping this from Internal Affairs is a crime, but the witness seems willing to keep to blackmailing us alone for now, and letting more people know would complicate matters and make them more dangerous.’

     'How long do we have?'

     'Not long I'm afraid. I'm sorry this is happening to you. I know how much being in the CID means to you.'

     'Magic has a way of changing things,' Merlin trailed off, lost for a second in that smothering sensation of fear, of the unknown, of not knowing what to do anymore. ‘Do you think—‘

     'Yes?'

     'Do you think, with the magic, with your comment about protecting people,' he paused to straighten out the flicker of an idea. 'Could we, Arthur and I— Could we still work as detectives, just independently? Maybe investigating crimes which involve magic specifically, and help people who can't turn to the Met?'

     'A private detective agency? You can certainly try,' Kilgharrah said with a slow smile. 'In fact, I think you should hold onto that idea. Granted neither of you are charged with murder, it would be a necessary service to London's public and police force.'

     'Yeah,' Merlin said, and headed to the door where he paused, hand wrapped around the cool handle. He looked back at him. 'I'm not going crazy?'

     Kilgharrah gave him a sad kind of smile. 'Like I said. That's entirely up to you.'

     He’d just opened the door when Kilgharrah cleared his throat.

     'I'll be retiring in the coming months. Before May I expect,' he added and Merlin froze.

     'Why?' he asked and bit the inside of his cheek, pressed down until it hurt.

     'I'm old and I feel it. It's time for me to leave. I don't make this decision lightly. I won't leave until this issue with the witness, and with Nix, is sorted out.'

     'It's not going to get easier once you're gone,' he said.

     'I know,' Kilgharrah paused. 'Agravaine will most likely take over as DCI, if you're still here to see it. I’d prefer to keep this between us. I thought you deserved to know before the others. Goodnight, young warlock.'

     Merlin closed the door and met Arthur in the corridor. He didn't ask what they had talked about. Instead he smiled at him. In spite of it all, of what Kilgharrah had said about his _fading_ , their terrible situation, Arthur _smiled_ at him. Merlin offered the best he could in return.

     'Before heading back to mine I thought we could check on Gwaine,' Arthur said as they fell into stride together walking to the lift. Merlin looked at the time on his phone: 22:38. They’d need to use their warrant cards to get access that late. He resisted the urge to hold Arthur’s hand once he put his phone away. It made something scratch under his skin. He wanted to tell him that Kilgharrah was leaving, but he couldn’t. He might have to leave too. What was happening? Why was everything falling apart? Why did he feel like he was heading toward that cliff's edge and couldn't stop the fall? _Fall_. Just like Nix had said.

     Once the lift doors slid shut Merlin swallowed down the anxiety and asked, 'You know it's not a coincidence that he's there from an overdose, right?'

     Arthur scoffed. 'Not when we're investigating Nix and a ring of drug dealers selling to magic users who just _happen_ to be killing people and under suspicion as well. There's no way. And it means we're targets too, especially when our prime suspect shows up at a murder scene that we'd only just heard about ourselves.'

     Merlin wanted to laugh at the how impossibly ridiculous and insane everything Arthur had just said sounded. He wanted to laugh and maybe a cry at the knowledge that it was true. _Fuck_. The doors slid open and they walked out, again their steps in time.

     ‘This is a lot, isn’t it?’ Arthur said as they went down the steps, shoes crunching a little against the gathered snow. It had stopped snowing now, but the silence in the air made him think it would start up again soon. Merlin nodded little distractedly. Part of him was hyperaware of his surroundings, the snow, the painful cold, Arthur’s warmth beside him. The other part was picking apart what _fading_ meant, what it would mean if he did lose his mind. ‘No matter what happens we’ll fight. Whether it’s the Dorocha, or Internal Affairs, or drug dealers who can murder us with magic. We’ll give them all hell. Oh, I’m getting a new car, by the way.’

     He pulled himself back into the present with the sudden shift. ‘You are?'

     ‘Mhm. Haven’t decided on whether it should be a Maclaren 750S or a Tesla 3.'

     Merlin laughed. He'd almost forgotten that Arthur was stupidly rich and the sole benefactor of the Pendragon estate Uther had built. 'They're _very_ different.'

     'Which is why I haven't decided,' Arthur said with a genuinely frustrated frown. It was such a ridiculous, adorable, and handsome expression. ‘But back to the point, we won’t give up.’

     Merlin’s smile stretched further and he folded his arms against the cold, trying to reconcile how he felt happy and beneath that so horrible, and further inside happy again because he was with Arthur. They were together. Really, properly, _together_. Why couldn’t he just feel one emotion at a time? He glanced up and wished he could see the stars like he could in childhood and camping back in Camelot.

      _Emrys_.

      Voices blew against his left ear and he looked down the bright halogen lamp-lit street. Quiet. There were a few other people walking around, but the lateness and snow had pushed most back inside. Then he saw the bodies. Faceless, legless, drifting in and out of view behind parked cars and motorbikes.

      'What is it?'

      Adrenaline thumped lazily, hotly, through his blood.

      'Merlin?'

      He walked after them, their forms only visible by the way they caught the light and emanated a strange dull grey-white glow. He heard Arthur follow him and held his hand out to press him back against his chest, keeping an eye on where they were heading.

      'I'll meet you there,' Merlin murmured.

      'Do you even know which hospital?'

      Merlin shook his head and carried on walking toward them. No one else could apparently see them. 'Text me the address.'

      'Merlin, what's going on?' Arthur pressed and walked by his side. 'I told you I wasn't going to leave you alone.'

      'Fine, but stay back, okay? It's Dorocha,’ he explained, his voice dipping into a rough whisper.

      Arthur’s frown cut into his face, darker with the shadows, as he looked ahead into the street. ’Where?’

      Merlin followed his gaze, saw how he didn’t fix it on the shapes moving. ‘That fact you can't see them is a bad sign.’

      ‘What,’ Arthur looked back to him, a step closer, ‘A bad sign that you're imagining it?'

      That hurt. ' _No_. It means this is probably a trap.'

      'And we're walking into it?’

      'I'm walking into it with magic and we can't exactly ignore them.'

      'Magic which hasn't been working lately.’

      Merlin sighed and ignored the comment. It was true, but what could he do? Let them leave and kill someone, or several people? Let them taunt him like the Cailleach had? If she had . . . 

      Once he'd gotten within twenty feet of them he slowed, stayed low, and kept to the shadows, pulling Arthur with him. He pressed his finger to his lips and looked at Arthur, who pressed his lips together with an annoyed frown but nodded.

       The Dorocha weren't acting like they used to, that was for certain. Three of them, moving down the road at a gentle pace one moment, abrupt and staggered the next. They weren't entering the buildings. When they came to a small stone monument they swept around to the left and slipped into the Whitehall gardens. Merlin dashed towards the wrought iron fence, ducked down low, and crept along until he could peer into the dark space between the twisting tree trunks and bushes.

       There was another street light half way down the road but its orange glow dimmed and grew unsteadily until it blinked out entirely with the ones behind them. Darkness swallowed up the road.

      _Emrys_.

      He clenched his teeth against the shivering and vaulted over the fence. Arthur swore lowly behind him as he followed. His feet landed with a soft _crush_ of snow and twigs. He couldn't see them anymore, but their voices had called out from the shadows, unnatural and too heavy.

      'You called,' he said and walked towards them, out from the border of trees and bushes onto the path which circled around a tall stone and bronze statue which loomed up black and strange in the night. It took everything not to run away. He clenched his fists as the magic dripped down inside his arms and pooled in his chest around his thumping heart. It burned beneath his cold skin. 

      There was no reply. He was hidden in the darkness now as well with all the lights in the garden blown out. It pressed in around him as open space and the public area felt useless as protection. The gardens were locked up, no one would be able to see them, no one would think to check. It was darker and colder than anything he'd experienced. His heart stuttered at the similarity to the Labyrinth. Labyrinth? He let the memory grow and settle like ash from a long dead fire blown in by wind. It scattered itself through his mind as he circled around the stone further.

      They were there. He thought he could hear what sounded like breaths. Faint, low, the rhythmic movement of air.

      'Where is the tear?' he asked and stopped his approach six or so feet from the looming blackness. Arthur moved close behind him. His presence made Merlin's heart ache. This was dangerous. _Really_ dangerous. 'The rift between our worlds. Tell me where it is.'

      _You want to return?_

      Their voices mixed and undulated in pitch like harsh whispers in the dark. Return where?

      'Where is the tear?' he asked in a harsh, low voice.

      _Why, Emrys? Why tell?_

      'I'll hurt you if you don't.'

      He heard what he assumed was laughter. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps run down over his skin. Merlin closed his hand into a fist until he felt the ring, the connection. He knew Arthur was behind him, but for some reason he couldn't feel it.

_We aren't living, Emrys. You cannot harm us._

      He swallowed thickly and heard Arthur move closer. He bore his stare into the creatures. They'd led him here. Why? 

      'Tell me where the rift is.'

      _Can't you feel it?_

      Their voices hissed out high then low into breath. It spilled across his face with an otherwise still and motionless wind. He flinched back when they pulled themselves out from the heavy shadow. Two whipped up and down behind him. His heart hit him hard inside his chest. Bad sign. Danger. _Run_. 

      Each beat had a new weight, an urgency. The air seemed thinner, the gardens smaller with the trees and statue and fence all pushing in against him. Merlin glanced back and forth between the one that remained by the thick darkness and the other two who were now directly behind Arthur who didn't know. He hadn't reacted at all to them, but Merlin's looks had told him enough.

      Their breaths puffed out white against the shadow. It was the same colour and substance of the Dorocha's strange forms. Fear rolled through him again. It started light on his skin, a buzz, and delved deep into his chest down to his stomach where it balled and stretched out. A convulsing weight that was either hot or cold, he couldn't tell. Could they kill him? Could they kill Arthur?

      'What should I feel?' he asked, his voice tight and low. Should he let them? Wait. _No_.

      Their answer came from the one left on its own. A whisper, Merlin couldn't hear it, couldn't understand the garbled words. He blinked and its form was suddenly pressed up to him. He stared into the hollows that carved out shapes of shadow. Shadow that merged with grey wisps, a breath of a former form.

      'What did you say?' he asked and heard his own voice disappear, fade into a murmur and then become nothing more than cold air. The magic lulled in his chest, arms, and fear crept through his blood in its place.

      He stared into it and watched, paralysed, breaths shallow and unsteady, as it lifted a long, clawed hand, and he could see. Blue, greyish skin, dead and rotten but frozen in time, stuck in death. Fingers came forward, up to his face. 

      He opened his mouth to yell at Arthur, tried to shout, 'Run!', when the breath of smoke which surrounded the creature lashed out at his skin.

      Merlin's breath hitched and he jerked back. Survival kicked in again, but before he could wake up fully, shrug off the fear, the claw was around his mouth. It dug in, pressed beneath his skin cold and sharp, smothered him. Any noise he could make was cut off as it brought his head to the ground with an ugly crack, the cold branching through his teeth, molars, up to his eyes and down his throat.

      He grunted at the pain, arm pushed backwards in an attempt to brace the fall, but his body wasn't responding fast enough. It shoved him down further with cold pressure. The other two wafted above and around them, light whiffs of smoke against the starless sky and dark air. God, he knew this. His heart rampaged, revolted, everything ached.

      ‘Merlin?' Arthur asked, the panic making his voice sharp, low, and came forward when the two others rammed into him, their dead arms clawing him down to the ground next to him. Merlin watched Arthur struggle, only a foot away, watched him bat helplessly at the air, his voice gone with only a primal growl left in his throat.

      _Go on and scream, Emrys. Call for help. Try and stop us._

      Any strength drained from him then as the ghostly hand pressed around his mouth harder. It drew blood inside when his cheeks cut against teeth. He couldn't breathe and his head pounded with the cold as shivers locked his muscles into place. He had to stop them. Magic, why wasn't it —

      _End this._

      Its face drew closer at the others' hiss and he felt the Dorocha inside his head again. Without a voice. It was there in memories. Memories that weren't his. Echoes of conversations, smouldered and broken images of countryside trails, paths through cloud-topped mountains, around lakes, small isolated towns from thousands of years before. People long dead.

      He struggled for a while, tugged and hit, but his weakened strikes moved through the air and found nothing solid. They were doing something to his strength, his fear, his magic, that part which wanted to fade away, which had to die, _something_. He almost cried when he heard Arthur make pained moaning sounds next to him.

      It held him down harder and a part of him made it hurt to try and fight. _Give in and diminish._ Eventually he stopped as his lungs burned, as his head punished him with the acute comprehension of a coldness and pain he hadn't experienced ever before. Not when Aredian had hunted him, not when he fell from the cliff, not the bullet, not the knife. This was different. It was darker.

      Kilgharrah's words dripped down through the cold. _You don't have to die_.

      The ground was hard and icy beneath him and his vision started fail. Shadows grew around and reached towards him. The Dorocha's fingers, hand, arm, face, were all large and too close. It blocked the world with a body of faint breath, a ghost of a human being, and soon it began to turn dark as well.

      _You will never be alone. Promise to stay with me._

      Merlin wanted to say his name. Arthur. He was dying. Were they both dying? He couldn't hear him anymore. He was right there, he'd seen him a second, before, close enough to touch if only he could move. He couldn’t move his eyes to see him anymore. Arthur was next to him, wasn’t he? Merlin was fading and he couldn't hear him anymore. His eyes watered as the pounding in his head grew. Thinking was difficult. Slow. The pain was in his chest, muscles, lungs, and there was _pressure_. Something cold around his heart which squeezed and burned like the snow.

      It felt different. Then, it felt like nothing.

      How much time passed he didn't know. Eventually the soft thin glow of the Dorocha spread until the bluish light darkened and bled into him. Until everything was pinched away by that dark light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Starless:  
> Dream by Bishop Briggs  
> Together Or Apart by Lissie  
> War of Hearts (Acoustic Version) by Ruelle  
> Be Somebody by Kings of Leon  
> St Jude by Florence + The Machine  
> The Mole by Hans Zimmer  
> Ancient Light by Allman Brown


	15. Dark Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be done with all university work 2nd May, and updates will be normal then on, but I'll probably be MIA for the next two weeks as I work to the deadline. As ever, I hope you enjoy reading and thank you for your comments and kudos! x x x Hope life is going well for you all :)

Shadow was everywhere. He was empty and nowhere. He couldn't feel his body. He couldn't sense anything at all. No heart beat, no warmth or cold, no breath. He? Him. _I. Me._ Who? Opening his mouth— He had a mouth. He was human. Opening his mouth he made a noise, a word.

Arthur. He'd just thought of that, hadn't he?

The thought, he heard it, his own voice. There were words in his head. A head but no heart? There were words were different from the others. Not his words. _Drakōn_. The image flared, dark wings unfurling like leaves that whipped past too quickly to really see in dusk. It was difficult. Another sound, _aithos_ , and warmth hit him. Light, distant, orange, fire, it flickered to life. Life. _Bios_. The heat disappeared. _Moros_.

Fate. _Thanatos_. Death. _Athanatos_.

Something inside pulsed. A beat, a drum, deep, deep and beating. _Athanatos_. Undying. Immortal. Another sound moved past in the shadow, _agapē_. He said it aloud and his heart beat hit louder, deeper. Love.

_Stay with me._

A new sound rose up. Water. He could feel it against his skin, the way it filled his mouth. It tasted of salt and iron and blood. An ocean.

'I,' he said into the pressure of the water, processing the closeness of the voice, the way it sounded both inside him and without. Something in the darkness changed. A pull, something pulled him backwards, downwards?

The pull was stronger, forceful, and his heartbeat ran too fast. He was falling. Down and fast. Water rushed away and left only the shadow air below. Something pushed or pulled him or both, fingers which pushed in against his face and tugged at his bones. _Him_. What did that mean? Something new, it came from nothing, something bad. It felt like he did, it felt bad. He knew he could make it go away, make it stop, but he couldn't remember how. He couldn't understand what it was or where exactly it was. His body reacted, rejected, and he clenched his teeth together. What was it? Feeling? Sensation, emotions? No, physical, body, contact, unpleasant. Pain. Falling.

Darkness broke when he landed. Wind, colours, all flooded in at once. Recognition. _Dorocha_. Dying. He was dying. He was being killed by a Dorocha.

He could feel a hand on the back of his neck. _That's definitely not normal._ A man's voice, tight and low, followed him as he fell into the snow. It's face was pressed in towards him, a cold pit in his stomach twisting his body into a seized frozen position. It was bluish-grey against the darkness around him and his lungs burned, his head burned, but someone's hands were on him, someone else was struggling to breathe through him. _What the actual fuck?_

'Aithos,' he croaked out with a new breath he couldn't have had, but somehow did. Orange, blurry light sparked around his hands and crystallised itself into fire. The creature reacted, its grip, its _digging_ , stopped long enough for him to say it again louder, breathlessly.

Heat swelled in his chest and the fire consumed his hands. His heart lurched in panic at the sight but then it cut through into the creature. It was blinding against the darkness as it tore into the Dorocha's shadowy blue form and swallowed its high-pitched scream. The light burned and rolled out from his hands, recoiling back to his body, around his arms. It started to die away and flicker but he said it again, heart beating fast, muscles aching.

When another two rushed at him, screaming, always screaming, he threw his arms out towards them. The fire swarmed forward as he brought his hands together, palms facing outwards, and it sparked two ways. They recoiled, tried to escape, but he wanted the fire to follow them and it did. It trapped them, broke off into smaller strings that burned through and coiled around them, made them scream until they disappeared. Until it destroyed them.

He drew in a sharp breath, the fire disappeared, and he started coughing. Rough, harsh, choking coughs. He rolled onto his side, pushed himself up onto his forearms and coughed until he felt his head ache. When he opened his eyes Merlin saw the blood against the snow, deep black against the pale dark white. He coughed for a while, bloody, on all fours, wheezing on the ground as it burned in his throat, in his chest. The air scratched at his throat as he tried to breath. When the coughing passed he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand and turned to see Arthur. His head swam when he remembered.

Merlin moved over as quickly as he could. Arthur's eyes were closed, skin ashen, and body too still.

'Arthur,' he said and pressed his fingers against his throat to feel for a pulse he couldn't fine. 'Arthur, please don't do this. Please—'

His hands were shaking as he tried to pull on that magic, but all he found was the flicker of orange light and those wings. Merlin rolled them away when he rolled his neck, a twitch or shake of his head, and shook Arthur. His body was limp and didn't respond.

'Arthur!' he yelled and shook him again. The lights in the park were out, and the darkness was making him feel sick, just like the cold.

'Hey, what's going on? Is somebody hurt?' someone asked from the gate of the park. Merlin ignored them and moved up to start chest compressions. Thirty times. Thirty times he'd been trained. He put his hands on Arthur's chest, interlocked them, and pushed down, one pump, again, again, _again_. Two each second. _Fuck_. His own heart was struggling to remain steady, his thoughts long gone by the time he'd finished.

Merlin tilted his head back in the snow, pinched his nose and lifted his chin. He took in a large breath of air and locked his mouth around Arthur's. He breathed out as smoothly as he could. Another breath of the cold air and he gave that to Arthur too. Merlin checked for any change but there was none. Panic snatched at him and he let out a strangled whimpering sound.

'I've called 999,' the voice from earlier said. Merlin swallowed the heat and tears and started compressions again.

'You made me promise,' he said as he did. 'Don't you dare do this after everything. Everything we've been through—'

Another two breaths. Thirty compressions. Breaths. Arthur didn't move. He didn't open his eyes. His heart never started beating again. The sound of sirens scratched through the air, wailing and growing louder. Merlin blinked out the burning and realised he was crying. The other person was saying something. Arthur was dead. It was snowing again.

'No,' he breathed, gasping, hands on Arthur's chest. Snow had spotted his dark clothes.

'Hey, they're here, I'll go get them,' the stranger told him and he heard them run away, heard the sirens cut off, heard doors bang open, saw blue light flash against the snow. It didn't make sense. How could he be alive? How could he be alive if Arthur was dead? It wasn't right. It couldn't be real. Only he felt it, he felt the pain eat its way into his heart, the way the ache began slow and deep inside and worked through his blood up to his throat and his eyes and head and made everything _hurt_. He screamed. Hands balled up and fingernails cutting as deep as they could into is palms, he screamed until he physically couldn't and crying dragged his head down to Arthur's chest.

Something snapped inside. When it broke the bloody water choked him and crashed down over him. He couldn't breathe, and he lost his grip on Arthur's coat and he couldn't see anything. Merlin fought against the currents as they dragged him backwards through the snow. They broke into the ground and took him under. He clawed at the wet earth, at the rocks and roots, as the water beat into him like it had at the bottom of the cliff. Drowning. He was blind and drowning.

He jerked upright gasping for clean air. Eyes wide open he took in the falling snow, the London Eye, the street lamps. Merlin scrambled back to his feet. He was in front of Scotland Yard.

He heard laughter and turned.

'Which is why I haven't decided.'

_Arthur_. And the man walking next to him was familiar. Dark hair, grown out enough to curl slightly, pale skin when he turned to look at Arthur smiling as they made their way down the steps to the main road. Merlin frowned, mouth open with the shock of it. They were— He was— He wiped his cheeks quickly and followed, listening to their conversation. He was drained of everything, of any feeling, simply numb. It was difficult to focus, to understand what was happening and had happened. Obviously his magic had done something again, like it had when he'd stepped off the balcony, when he'd Vanished with Arthur, only this time he'd gone _back_ in time.

'It probably means this is a trap,' he heard himself say ahead. They were walking in step with each other, Arthur and that other him. After a minute or so of silence they both jumped over the fence and Merlin lost sight of them just as someone walked past him. They had their hood up, lined with fur, hands stuffed in pockets and the wires of ear buds swinging out in front. Merlin's heart started to beat heavily. He waited until the few cars driving past were out of sight and pulled himself up and over the fence as quietly as he could.

'Tell me where the rift is.'

It was unbelievably strange to hear himself several feet ahead in the opening of the gardens. Merlin kept to the bushes and trees lining the edge and got as close as he could until he saw himself, Arthur, and the three Dorocha surrounding them. What was his plan? He had no idea how this worked or if it was even supposed to. He'd read enough books and had a working grasp of relativity to know it would be bad to interfere but he had to. A painful wave of hope, of relief, shifted through him before fear came, and more panic.

He held himself back when the Dorocha attacked them. In a lot of ways he found it worse to watch as they pushed himself and Arthur into the ground, strangled them, the way they fought against it. How each try grew weaker and slower. He felt his pulse in his ears, in his fingertips, skin burning in spite of the freezing temperature. When was he supposed to do something? What was he even going to do? The fire? How had he even done that? He couldn't feel the magic in his veins anymore.

Merlin flinched when the light flared. The Dorocha screeched, an animalistic, inhumane, and loud sound to the point where he knew the whole of Westminster and then some had probably heard. That's when he saw the other two creatures push in towards Arthur. Seconds. He was dealing with seconds. That's when they had killed him. He'd been distracted with the first and they'd killed Arthur. They were about to kill him all over again. Merlin ran forward and yelled out to grab their attention. He ran into them before they reached Arthur.

Their bodies were terrifyingly physical as they pushed back against him, points of hard cold bone jammed into his body as wisps of shadow and cold light lashed out at him like hail in the wind. His cheek burned as one of their claws raked through his skin before fire slammed it to the side and burned it up like paper. He stood over Arthur as the other swept in at him, hollowed out dead mouth gaping open. Merlin watched himself step out with burning hands and blow the creature back into the air, red-orange light wrapping around its form in flaring and wild circles. When they cinched in the Dorocha disappeared into strips of greyish air and shadow.

Merlin knelt down and checked Arthur was breathing. It was faint, but it was there. He double checked for a pulse and found it gentle under his warm skin. He let out a long sigh and sat back on his heels. He saw himself standing there with a deep frown watching.

'You can't be,' the other him said a little breathlessly as the last licks of flame went out with small wisps of smoke along his fingers. He didn't know how to feel as he looked at himself in the poor light, gaunt, eyes dark with a wildness in them he'd never seen before in the mirror. 'Are you me?'

Merlin opened his mouth to respond before he heard the stranger from before call out, 'What's going on in there?'

He turned to see a tall man peering over the fence. When he looked back the other him was gone. Arthur coughed and Merlin knelt down to put his hand on his forehead, brush back his hair.

'Arthur? Can you hear me?' he asked, surprised at how raw and rough his voice was. Arthur groaned and opened his eyes. For a moment he stared up into the sky, peacefully if confused, then the frown cut into his expression and he jerked upright. Merlin put his hand against his chest. 'Try not to move too quickly.'

'Where'd they go?' Arthur asked.

'I took care of them,' he said. 'We have to get out of here, okay?'

Merlin helped him up to his feet with effort as they both shook from shock and struggled to find their balance. They helped each other climb out of the park over the fence and Merlin organised a cab to pick them up. They didn't say anything as they waited in front of Scotland Yard. Three minutes passed by and the black cab pulled up. Merlin opened the door and let Arthur step inside first and then they sat silent in the dim light as it drove through Westminster towards Arthur's South Kensington flat.

Merlin didn't know if he wanted to break the quiet between them. He looked at Arthur who stared out the cab window. His hair was damp with melted snow. Was he supposed to tell him what had happened? Would it make things better or worse? He turned away and watched the buildings and people pass by beyond his own window. Eventually the cab stopped and they made their way up to his flat.

When Arthur turned on the lights and shut the door Merlin couldn't take it anymore. He hugged him as tightly as he could, buried his face in his shoulder and breathed in the cologne that clung to the scarf and black fabric of his coat, the dampness cold against his skin. Arthur's arms moved up around him and squeezed him back.

'It's okay.'

'I'm so sorry,' he said but it was too muffled against the coat. He pulled back far enough to speak and look him in the eyes, arms still around him. His cheek stung from the claw marks, and he knew it probably looked terrible, but he didn’t care. 'I'm so sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have followed them. I shouldn't have let you come with—'

'Hey, you didn't let me do anything,' he cut in. A smile lifted at his lips, enough to reveal his perfectly crooked teeth. He reached up to the wound but Merlin pushed his had away.'I insisted on going with, remember? And we're okay. You stopped them.'

He put his hand against Merlin’s uninjured cheek and brushed it with his thumb. His eyes were so blue, bluer than they normally were, and he started to cry.

'What's wrong?' Arthur asked and his smile fell. Merlin pressed his lips together and stepped away, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes to make the tears stop, to make the feeling go away. 'Merlin?'

'It's all too much,' he said and wiped away the tears. He paced across the living room, between the coffee table and sofa, behind it, circling as Arthur moved toward him. 'Don't you ever feel like that? There's just so much happening. How can one person handle it? How am I supposed to just keep going?'

'You handled it, Merlin. You did it—'

'No!' he yelled and pushed his fingers up into his hair, grabbing onto it to try and get the the pain, the loss, the anger to stop. He couldn't look at Arthur, he didn't want to see him die again. He didn't want to relive it. 'I didn't. I didn't handle it. I fucked up. I killed you. I couldn't save you.'

Arthur put his hand against his back. 'But you did sa—'

Merlin spun around. He had pushed Arthur against the wall and cracked the glass of the picture frame behind him. Arthur stared at him with wide eyes, challenging him, and didn't move away or say anything. Merlin had snatched onto the front of his coat and his hands were still balled up with clumps of his coat. The tension in his arms flooded out and opened his palms to rest them against Arthur's chest as his breathing evened out.

'Time changed again, Arthur. They killed you and I couldn't save you and then I went back. I didn't mean to, but it happened like the other times and I stopped them,' Merlin said and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes and focused on the Arthur's warm breath against his face, the way his chest moved with each lungful. 'You died. I lost you. I wasn't paying attention for a _second_ and you died.'

They stood foreheads together in more silence. Merlin didn't want to open his eyes and see resent in Arthur's eyes. He'd just shoved him into a fucking _wall_. What was wrong with him?

'I'm sorry,' he said and then he felt Arthur kiss him. His lips pushed against his own, soft and barely there, a peck. Merlin followed it before it left and kissed him again, this time deeper. Heat burned in his abdomen, his stomach twisted with butterflies, and he fought off the damp coat, tugged the scarf down between them to the floor, let Arthur take off his own coat. They kept pulling and throwing off layers, lips and tongues and teeth connecting haphazardly until they were stripped down to their underwear and could feel each other's skin. Completely, totally, hands burning and pressing into stomachs and thighs and chests.

They held onto each other everywhere they could and then Arthur pushed Merlin down onto the sofa. He covered him with his warmth and started kissing and biting down his jaw, throat, down his chest then back up again. Merlin craned his head back into the arm of the sofa with a low moan when Arthur's hand pushed in under the waistband of his boxers. His chest was warm and his head was dizzy with some combination of lust and exhaustion.

When he started kissing the inside of his right thigh everything stopped as a voice cut through the sounds of their heavy breathing. It was familiar and tinny and kept asking if he was all right. It stopped a second later as if it had never been there. Merlin frowned but Arthur carried on kissing, and each time his lips burned themselves into the sensitive skin getting closer to his groin Merlin's stomach fluttered and his body reacted.

'Are you all right?'

Merlin gasped and sat up. His right ear had heard that voice as loud as Arthur's had been minutes earlier, but the blonde simply moaned and tried to yank his boxers off.

'Arthur,' Merlin started, heat flushing through him from panic which mixed uneasily with his arousal. In response Arthur tugged harder and then moved up to kiss him properly. He couldn't speak and instinctually moaned into the sensation of being naked and having Arthur push his body against his. The ache of sleep deprivation was hollow in his chest but somehow that didn't matter. He'd waited so long for things to feel right between them, to have this, to have sex, to really be _with_ him.

He hooked his left leg up by the back of the sofa and Arthur pressed in closer, hand reaching down to his hipbone to hold him as he moved his lips across Merlin's cheek to his earlobe which he took into his mouth and sucked. Merlin groaned low and breathlessly and then he felt Arthur's hand leave his hip and looked to see him pulling down his underwear at last. He also saw a small bottle of lube he'd somehow gotten a hold of and a bubble of happiness popped in his chest before the sensation of it cool at first against his skin distracted him.

'I want you,' Merlin said and the possessiveness of it surprised himself. Arthur simply hummed and Merlin closed his eyes again when he felt him push his fingers inside. It could have gone on for hours or seconds, he couldn't tell, because then he felt Arthur's body ontop of his and inside him and he couldn't think clearly anymore. All he knew was the heat, the pleasure, the groans and rush of hot breath against his skin, and the mouth which kept pushing against his urgently and incessantly. He could barely breathe as he hooked his legs up against warm skin and ran his hands down his back, through his hair, against his neck. He was close to climaxing when he heard Arthur breath, 'I'm about to—' and found the willpower to open his eyes into the umpteenth kiss.

Dark curls. Steel blue eyes looked up at him beneath dark lashes. They closed and he moved inside again and the heat in Merlin's abdomen twisted into something hotter, something that pushed itself in deeper. His kiss became devouring, starved, and Merlin's body responded in spite of his panic with a moan caught within their mouths.

'Mordred?' Merlin breathed with panic and confusion. It was choked by heat and next thrust when the lips left his and then pleasure grabbed him inside like a fist and his entire body tensed with the release. His heart pounded slowly, peacefully, in his chest. Cold air rushed up across him and he opened his eyes to see Arthur panting and sat back between his legs with a deep frown. The betrayal was soft and dark in his blue eyes like a bruise.

'Arthur, I don't,' Merlin trailed off as he processed what had happened. He was so tired.

'Did you actually just say _his_ name?' Arthur asked, stiff where he sat.

'He was,' he began, but then embarrassment crashed into him and his cheeks burned. What the fuck? _Fuck_. Swearing wasn't fucking good enough. It had been a second of strange confusion. 'Arthur, I don't know—'

'Have you even seen each other since the summer?'

'No, no we haven't, I don’t—'

Arthur stood up and snatched up his boxers to pull them on quickly. 'I'm exhausted so let's not do this now.'

Merlin tried to grab his hand but he moved out of reach. 'It's not what you think, Arthur, and I know you're thinking the worst thing possible.'

'Actually I'm not because if I were I'd be done. Just fucking _done_ ,' Arthur said, voice dark and low, as he stood at the end of the sofa, arms folded across his bare chest. 'Bloody hell. I mean bloody fucking hell.'

Each word hit him like a blow. Merlin’s body ached intensely and he frowned as he tried to think out loud, to make sense of it. 'My magic isn't normal. Arthur, I told you what happened this morning, and then with what just happened, we almost _died_ , and I saw him, it wasn't that it was a freudian slip or something, it was just a _second_. Please. Believe me.'

They stared at each other and the dark look in his eyes softened and his frown relaxed a little. Then his eyes dropped to the side where their clothes were piled randomly.

'I'm going to get seven hours sleep minimum before I do anymore thinking or talking,' Arthur said. He avoided eye contact and his voice had a strange clipped edge to it. 'You can shower before me, sleep on the sofa, and don't even think about leaving. If you're not here in the morning I'm putting out a Missing Persons and calling my father's old marine buddies. Night, Merlin.'

He wanted to push, to make sure he explained it, but he knew if he did it could end things. Make them worse. He’d just watched him die. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t open that old scar in their relationship more than he already had. Turn that look of betrayal into one of conviction. So, Merlin found himself alone under the hot stream of the shower for the second time that day. _One day_. He was emotionally overloaded and numb. His stare grew unfocused and blurred and he turned off the shower. After towelling himself dry, brushing his teeth, hair, and changing into the same jogging trousers from earlier and a new large top, he opened the bathroom door and checked for Arthur.

His bedroom light was on and so was the living room's. Everything else was dark. He heard draws open and shut in the bedroom and wanted to go there. He wanted to step into the soft gold light and wash it all away. The shower hadn't made him feel clean. Why had he seen Mordred? Why then? And that voice? Kilgharrah had said _what is uncertain is the affect that kind of transition has on a mind_ , which meant—

He'd seen Mordred. He'd felt that second breath with his own. It must have been real only he knew it wasn't. He'd imagined the Cailleach. He hadn't jumped because she'd made him. He'd done it because he'd simply wanted to. How could he let himself do that? What was that voice in his head, those words, that language? Was it really his magic doing these things _to him_? Or was he the one messing up his magic which caused the crazy stuff in the first place? What even was magic?

Merlin tried to calm down and walked into the living room. There he saw that Arthur had made up a bed. He cringed looking at it. He'd said _Mordred_ when they climaxed. Thinking about it clearly definitely made everything worse. Merlin scrubbed his eyes, drank two glasses of cold water, realised it was past midnight, and turned out the lights to collapse onto the sofa. Light from Arthur's room streamed into the corridor and gave the air a strange warm grainy quality. He stared up at the ceiling and studied the shifts in light and shadow until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Dark Wings:  
> Fear on Fire by Ruelle  
> No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine  
> An Unkindness of Ravens by Sanders Bolke  
> Dreams by Gabrielle Aplin and Bastille  
> Unworthy by Vancouver Sleep Clinic  
> Circadian Rhythm (Last Dance) by Silversun Pickups  
> Dangerous Night by Thirty Seconds to Mars  
> Easy by Son Lux  
> I Don’t Wanna Be In Love by Dark Waves


	16. Imagine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hope you're all surviving and mostly happy! All third-year work is done for me now, so updates shall be more frequent and stable :) I've also got a solid plan for the trajectory of this third part (finally), and I'm excited to write it and see what you all think. And thank you all for reading, giving kudos and commenting. It means a lot xxx

 The cab ride to Royal London Hospital was quiet. It was 5:37p.m. and they'd spent the day with Gaius and forensics to see if there was anything else to help them in the case. Still, Arthur hated himself that it had taken until Sunday to check on Gwaine. He hated that Friday had ended so badly. It was New Year's Eve and he hadn't kept in touch with any of the others beyond the investigation into the double homicide and updating them on Nix in the magic homicides and drugs case. Even though he'd kept an eye on Merlin the previous day they had barely spoken. He'd kissed him in the Yard's bathroom. Words somehow didn't get across the way they felt now. Made them both tea and sorted through witness statements. Examined the crime scene again.

'What are you thinking?'

 Arthur turned to Gwen. They'd just passed Aldgate station and would arrive in a few minutes. His heart wasn't in any of it. He'd been close to death, actual real death, only a day and a half ago. In fact, he _had_ died. Merlin has undone it. The only person who knew was Merlin. The only reason he was alive was Merlin. He was the one who was supposed to protect him. Instead he felt like a helpless bystander watching his best friend, his partner, wonder if he was losing his mind. Which he might be. Again, there was nothing he could do. He could love him to the end of his life, die for him and fight for him, but none of that helped him.

'The double homicide. I know it's a fresh case, but the whole thing feels off,' he said. She watched him a moment longer, which told him she knew he hadn't told her everything. The realisation had made him rethink a lot. About how to deal with life, work, and what was important to him. How he'd never appreciated Morgana. How his father really had tried his best and had probably loved him in his own way. How important he was to Merlin, and what it meant to be cared for like that by another person. For the first time in his life he found himself prioritising a person over his own ambition. The only silver lining was Kilgharrah hadn't told the team about Phoebe for whatever reason.

'We'll figure it out. I still can't believe Gwaine overdosed. I've only ever heard him talk about weed. Even then he only ever used it in Amsterdam.'

 Arthur hummed in agreement. If only she knew. Oh, hey Gwen, did I mention that I almost died Friday night? That I voluntarily followed Dorocha into a dark locked-up park? Or that Merlin murdered Phoebe to keep her from killing me just before Christmas and we've lied about it to all of you? Also, we're being blackmailed, so if I don't go to prison for murder or manslaughter I'll have to move to Brazil and assume a new identity? Also, Merlin said Mordred's name when they were having sex. Does that mean Merlin is in love with Mordred or is it only some magic-lust connection? Does he even care about almost being raped a year earlier?

 Arthur winced and he realised he'd dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands with enough force to break the skin. Half-moon circles of dark pink mixed with pricks of blood glared up at him.

'We're here,' Gwen said and opened the cab door. Arthur stepped out, careful on the icy ground, and slipped his scarf back around his neck to hang loosely. Gwen took the lead and took him inside the hospital and up to the second floor ward where Gwaine was kept under observation.

 He inhaled the smell of disinfectant, let the blue curtains and uniforms pass him by, and only stopped to focus when they came to Gwaine's bed. He was a little rough around the edges, unshaven, and more tired than usual, but otherwise just as strong and happy. Arthur was continuously impressed by them all, ex-Knights and close friends. How they kept themselves together was beyond him. There were days where they were the only thing keeping him together. Like today.

'Finally dragged your royal arse over here, huh?'

 He managed to smile and Gwaine. 'They're still keeping you in here?'

'Today's the last day,' he said and shrugged. 'Sucks that I'll start the new year in a hospital gown completely sober.'

'Are you feeling better?' Gwen asked and put her hand on his ankle. Arthur couldn't help but remember Merlin being attached to an IV drip several weeks before.

'Loads. It's all a fluke. I don't even remember what I took. I swear I didn't take anything to start with but my blood tests speak for me in here. The last thing I remember is going into Merlin's bedroom to search for clues. Figure out where he might have disappeared off to on Christmas.'

 Arthur wanted to tell him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to or not. 'You think you could have been framed?'

'I had you pegged as the paranoid one,' Gwaine said with a wink, but then his happy demeanour wilted. 'But yeah. Maybe. Heard that they're launching an inquiry? I could lose my job over this and I can't even remember doing it. How fucked up is that?'

 Arthur rested his hands on the bottom rail of the bed. 'You've got plenty of enemies.'

'We all do. Why'd they shoot for me and not one of you sods? No offence.'

 Gwen sat down on the edge of the bed. 'That's a good question.'

'We'd better know and soon. Is Merlin avoiding me by the way? Where did he go?'

‘He—' Arthur clamped down on the explanation. Gwaine's heart beats beeped out every other second. 'Long story. We've both been distracted. He's with Leon right now working on our new homicide.'

'Yeah? Tell me more.'

'I think Merlin should be the one to tell you,' he said.

'Come on, mate.'

'He's your best friend, right?'

'Right.'

'Then trust that he'll tell you when he can.'

'He can be a secretive bastard. You know that,' Gwaine argued. 'If I don't know whatever's kept his beautiful face away from me within the week I'm coming for you.'

 Arthur smiled. 'I accept your terms.'

'As if you had a choice,' he said. 'No celebrations tonight?'

 Arthur opened his mouth to say no when Gwen said, 'We'll be having drinks at mine and Lance's. Mandatory except for those of us bed ridden in hospital. When you feel up to it we'll have another party for you obviously.'

'Thanks, Gwen,' he said and took her hand to squeeze it. 'You're the sweetest of us all. Make us look like the arrogant dicks we really are, but that's a price I'm willing to pay to have you with us.'

'Enough sweet talk. You need rest. Is Percy picking you up tomorrow?'

'Yeah he is. I think the poor guy's still freaked out after finding me like that. I hate that I did that to him.'

 Arthur understood the sentiment. Then a thought struck him and he asked, 'Was there anything in Merlin's room? Anything different?'

'I don't think there was. Oh, apparently they found whatever I took there when they went to investigate. Apparently they can't figure out what the drugs were, and I don't see Merlin as the type,' Gwaine told him, eyes staring at the bed covers in thought. 'It's obvious. Drugs, me not remembering because I didn't- I couldn't have taken them. It was that drug-peddling creep from Old Religion, right? We're investigating him, so obviously—'

'Nix?' Gwen chimed in. 'You think he tried to frame you?'

'Or kill me, or Merlin,' Gwaine cut in with a dark look.

 Gwen narrowed her eyes with thought. 'It wouldn't exactly make him less of a suspect in the case if he did.'

'He might not care about that,' Arthur added. His blood was pumping faster. 'On Friday he showed up at the crime scene to taunt Merlin.'

 Gwaine sat up straighter. 'He did _what_? That bastard—'

'For god's sake, it doesn't stop,' Arthur said and ran a hand across the back of his head. 'We have no proof, not yet anyway, but from this moment on we don't do anything or go anywhere alone. Merlin's been staying with me and he will until this is all over. Gwaine, if you could bunk with Percy or Leon? Nix has already been in your home.'

'Mate, we've got to lock this guy up.'

'We will,' Gwen said. 'It's what we're best at.'

 Arthur nodded and reached into his pocket. 'Oh, bit of a side note, but I have something for you.'

 He took out the tickets, a present he'd completely blanked on as he'd ordered them weeks ago and they'd only arrived in the post Friday, post he hadn't checked until that morning. It wasn't the right moment to give him the gift, but he had a feeling there wasn't going to be right moment for a while yet.

'Six Nations tickets? No way.'

'Rugby's great in the pub, but better in person. I thought we could go since Ireland will be playing England and—'

'I'm feeling a lot of affection towards you right now,' Gwaine said and held out his arm. 'Bring it in.'

 Arthur grinned and walked around to give him a hug. 'You can hold onto the tickets if you want.'

'Now we need to survive the magic apocalypse to see Gwen and Lance get hitched and see Ireland crush you,' he said and winked at Gwen. 'This is great. Thanks, Arthur.'

'Thank me if we make it to the match.'

 Gwen slapped his arm and stood up. 'Come on, it'll take an hour to get to mine with the roadworks and you're have to help us set up.'

'Text me ongoing commentary,' Gwaine said and she agreed with a smile, kissed his forehead and left. Arthur lingered a moment longer partly because he missed his friend, the guilt for not coming sooner, and the urge to tell him everything. He'd almost told Gwen in the cab.

 Gwaine smiled at him. 'Go have fun, mate.'

 Arthur nodded and left. It was a surreal experience. Rugby games with Gwaine, Gwen's wedding in February, it was what he needed to ground him into life. Work certainly didn't do that anymore. He mulled it all over and asked Gwen about the wedding plans, if she and Lance were going to stay in Bermondsey or north of the river, and with the traffic they only reached their house a few minutes before 7p.m.

 Lance was attaching metallic streamers across the arches of the doorways when they walked in. They hugged and then he and Gwen kissed and Arthur had a pang in his chest. He saw a future when he looked at them. Deeper than that, he could see himself like that with Merlin. They could have that future. He looked down at the leaf-engraved ring. Why hadn't it saved him when he'd almost died? Hadn't that been the whole point? Or maybe it hadn't saved him because Merlin was going to. Did the magic inside it know that was going to happen?

'Lost in thought for the new year?' Lance asked and passed him a beer.

'You have no idea,' he said and took it.

'Help me with the decorations?'

'Yeah, this place looks great.'

 Arthur took a sip of the IPA and started cello-taping the ribbons of silver and gold to the walls.

'Just before midnight we'll head outside to see the fireworks,' Gwen told him as she untangled a section of the ribbons before handing it to Lance. They strung them all up, Arthur asked Lance about how work at his hospital was going, told him what he could about his own job, and by then Elyan and Percy had arrived with snacks. It was dark outside but the din of celebration drifted through London's air to the point Arthur could swear he smelled it when he opened the door and let them inside.

 It was 8:43p.m. when Gaius showed up with wine and half an hour later Leon and Merlin arrived. It was different without Gwaine, but conversation was easy and the drinks helped, and they all relaxed into it. Work was forgotten temporarily.

 Merlin leaned into him where they stood against the kitchen counter listening to Elyan's childhood memory of his first real crush who he'd failed to realise liked him too. Arthur wanted to pull Merlin in closer, kiss his cheek, but the closeness and warmth of his body was enough. Hearing him say _Mordred_ had been unexpected, horrific, painful, and he hadn't managed to forgive it yet, but what he felt for him was more than that. It was stronger than that. He knew it more so now than ever before. He couldn't imagine ever being without him. He wanted to live his life with the man. He wanted to see that goofy smile again, his strange sense of humour, the way he saw the world so optimistically. He wanted Merlin to be happy again.

'You okay?' Merlin asked and Arthur realised they others had moved into the living room.

'Never better,' he said and kissed him. A quick peck, soft. 'Do you want to be my date to Gwen and Lance's wedding?'

 Merlin blinked at him, thrown by the question. He actually blushed a little. It was ridiculous and beautiful. God, he loved him so much.

 Merlin smiled. 'Yeah. Yeah, of course.'

'Cool,' Arthur said.

'Cool,' Merlin repeated. The doorbell rang and he gave Merlin another kiss before joining the others.

'Invite someone else?' he asked Lance and Gwen. Lance was apparently content keeping his work and personal life separate to the point where he hadn't invited friends from his hospital over. Apparently most of the people he would have had pulled shifts that night for the extra cash.

'No,' Lance said slowly. 'I'll go see who it is.'

'It's half past. Should we head outside yet?' Leon asked.

'In a moment, just hold still,' Gwen said with her phone up. Arthur walked into the room in time to be caught off guard when the white flash blinked through the air. 'Sorry, I forgot the flash was on. I'll take another. I need to update Gwaine. Merlin, get in there.'

 Merlin jogged a little to reach the room and Arthur took him by the arm and pulled him closer in time for the next photo. He tripped a little and Arthur almost spilled his fourth beer catching him.

'Perfect, sending it now,' she said.

 They both laughed and he helped straighten Merlin up. 'Clumsy as ever, huh?'

 Merlin grinned, and Arthur knew he was tipsy with his fifth beer. The grin broke. Arthur didn't know why until he heard the laughter and conversation die. He turned around. Mordred stepped in behind Lance with another man with him. It took a moment, then he recognised him. William from Ealdor. Merlin's childhood friend. The music cut out.

'Merlin,' Mordred said.

 Merlin stared back at him. 'Mordred.'

'Nice to finally see you again,' William said with an awkward smile.

'William?' Arthur asked to double check. When the man looked at him he recognised his eyes.

'You know who I am?' he said with a small frown. 'Did Merlin tell you about our Sixth Form days?'

 They knew each other in this lifetime as well? Arthur shook his head. 'No, he didn't.'

'Oh.'

 Mordred and Merlin were still staring at each other and Arthur swallowed the irritation. He had to rein in the sharp and biting anger.

'What are you doing here, Mordred?' he asked.

'Something happened Friday night. I waited till now to be sure. I know the timing is bad, but—'

 William leaned in towards him. 'Leir, you have to tell them.'

'I think our thing is back. I felt something happen to you, Merlin. I almost died with you,' he paused, eyes fixed on Merlin, and seemed genuinely pained with what he wanted to say. It made the anger worse and Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin's to try and ground himself. The warmth did help. When Merlin squeezed back helped even more.

'Wait, you almost died?' Leon cut in, but Merlin ignored him as Mordred wasn't done. He shifted his weight a little, William put his hand on his shoulder and nodded.

 Mordred sighed and now he looked directly at Arthur. 'Morgana's alive.'

 Arthur waited. Mordred didn't laugh. His black humour was blacker than he'd thought. No one said anything. Disbelief, waiting for that second shoe to drop, strung out the silence in the air, wound it into something hard and uncomfortable. She wasn't alive. She couldn't be. Why wasn't Merlin telling him that? He knew.

'Mordred,' Merlin began, voice soft.

'She's alive because of you, Merlin. When you came back and tore the veil, you didn't just free those _things_ ,' he continued and Arthur's heartbeat was slow, steady, hard. 'You opened a door in a way and she came back through it too. Only, she's now disappeared. Something happened to her. My flat was a wreck. That's when I felt you.'

'Felt me,' Merlin repeated, a slight frown pulling at his gaunt features.

'Your breath. How cold you were,' Mordred explained, and Arthur could have sworn he saw that golden light, dim and only for one heartbeat, glow in his eyes. 'Like when those men attacked you. After that I didn’t— We didn’t— But, Friday it happened again. Didn't you feel it?'

 Arthur looked to Merlin. He wasn't responding.

'You did,' Arthur said. That's why he'd said Mordred's name. When Merlin had been dying, when they'd both lied there being killed, they were together but alone. Mordred had really been with Merlin in a way he never could be. God, he knew it didn't matter in that way, that he and Merlin were great, but it _hurt_. Mordred thought Morgana was alive. He couldn't breathe. He took his hand back and scrubbed his face, ran them through his hair to the back of his head, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take deep breaths. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. Never a break, not a single moment that could ever be untouched by the rest of the crap in their lives. Love, sex, dying, work, Christmas, New Year's Eve, none of it was left alone.

 His head spun, and when he opened his eyes again it was still quiet, tense, sombre, confusing, Merlin wasn't responding, Mordred was staring, William was frowning, Gwen looked ready to either hug or slap someone.

'For God's sake,' Arthur huffed and dropped his arms. His chest was tight, and breathing was harder than it should be, and his heartbeat was wrong. 'For God's fucking sake!'

The shout rang in his own ears several seconds afterwards. He channeled the panic, the fear, and pushed into that feeling. Into the frustration and anger he'd felt his entire life.

'Upstairs. Just you. Now,' he ordered. Mordred stepped back out of the room and went up the stairs. 'If the rest of you could give us a minute.'

 He took Merlin's hand and led him out to follow. No one said anything when he did and William stepped out of their way when they passed. He'd almost had a panic attack. In front of his entire team, his friends, bloody _Mordred_. Arthur let Merlin walk into Gwen and Lancelot's bedroom where Mordred waited first. Then he closed the door behind them.

'Are you lying?' he had to ask. Merlin frowned at him when he did and Mordred shook his head.

'No, I'm no—‘

'Then, I'm sorry, but you bloody well deserve this—‘

 His knuckles crunched into Mordred's nose. White pain branched through his fist and Mordred hit the floor with the momentum. As Arthur pulled back he saw the blood begin streaming down over his mouth.

'What the fuck,' Merlin yelled and moved towards Mordred. Arthur let him go, but Mordred pushed him away and, wiping pointlessly at the blood, stood up again. His eyes were watering, and the bright red wound its way around Mordred's pale hand, down into the shadow of his coat sleeve.

'How _dare_ you wait until now to say anything,' Arthur said, the anger turning his words into a growl. 'You had no right. No fucking right.'

'I know,' he said, voice muffled and changed with the blood. 'I'm sorry. Truly sorry.'

 Part of him didn't believe Mordred, and the man may well be delusional, but his anger was still justified. It felt right, and unbelievably therapeutic, to break his nose.

'I don't know what to do about what's been happening. With Morgana, the screams, whatever happened to you,' Mordred continued, looking to Merlin. 'What did happen?'

'Dorocha tried to kill us,’ Arthur said.

'What screams, Mordred?' Merlin asked, and Arthur felt the anger slowly leave his rapid heartbeat. It drained and his breaths evened out.

'I hear them, the Dorocha I guess. Sometimes anyway. I hear them screaming in my head. Morgana thinks it's because I never went to the place you and she did.'

 Arthur frowned. 'What place?'

'No idea,' Merlin said.

'She said that you both went somewhere, a cliffside with a dragon,' Mordred continued, tipping his head back to stem the blood flow with a squinted expression. 'It sounds crazy when I say it, but that's what she told me.'

'Dragon?' Merlin repeated, and Arthur knew that distant look in his eyes. Recognition.

'Like what Kilgharrah used to be?' Arthur said.

 Mordred was struggling with the blood. 'I don't know.'

'Do you want to get some tissues?' he suggested, and Mordred nodded and left into the ensuite.

'Merlin?'

'It rings a bell. I don't remember going anywhere with Morgana, though. The dragon thing, that I remember from Friday. With the fire. It was dragon fire. I know it was.'

'Fire?' he asked. He'd evidently been unconscious before that part.

'That's what I used to destroy the Dorocha. Before my magic changed time.'

'Right.'

'Did you have to hit him?'

'Yes.'

'Yeah,' Merlin said. One word, and one look, and Arthur knew he understood. Which was all he needed. 'You're not okay, are you? Not just about what happened between us. You're not okay with what happened during the attack.'

'Neither are you. You were coughing all day yesterday and last night.'

'I'm not anymore,' he added, almost sheepishly. 'I'm sorry about Friday. I'll find a way to control whatever's between Mordred and I.'

'Thank you.'

 Mordred stepped back in, cleaned up, with tissues pushed up against his nose. The bone was back in place.

'Magic?' Arthur asked.

'Mhm.'

'So, you think Morgana's alive?'

'Because she is.'

 Merlin frowned. 'I haven't felt her magic.'

'Trust me. Now she's missing and I can't track her. That's why I'm here, that and you being attacked. Sorry I haven't seen you until now.'

'Probably for the best,' Merlin said. 'If you can't track her I won't be able to either. How can we help?'

'Well, Arthur,' Mordred bore his eyes into him, 'you know her better than most.'

'Knew,' he corrected. 'And I don't know where to start with the idea of her being alive, let alone finding her.'

'Oh,' Merlin said, the distant look back in his eyes. 'She might not be alive.'

'I told you—'

'Mordred, listen to me. You hear the Dorocha while we've _seen_ them. Felt them. They exist here with us because I let them come here. Morgana, well with her magic and the fact she died recently—'

'She's one of them?' Arthur asked, struggling to let any of it sink in.

'Or she came back like you did—'

'I never actually died, Mordred. I was in a coma from a physical wound. You said that Nimueh attacked Morgana, which means she probably used magic, and that combined with the physical fall from a _mountain_ ,' he trailed off. 'She might be something like the Dorocha. Not the same but similar.'

'She's back and she's alive.'

'Not alive. Back, but not alive. Which is why I haven't felt her magic.'

Mordred's expression hardened. ' _I_ felt her.'

'We have to close the rift, and if she is like them, when we do she’ll—'

 Mordred pulled the bloody tissues away and they burned up into nothing but smoke in a second.

'I just thought you should know,' Mordred bit out. 'I'm glad you're all right. And sorry again, Arthur. Will and I should go since you're not going to help.'

'No, wait,' Merlin moved in front of him and stopped his approach to the door. 'Arthur, can you leave?'

'Why?'

 Merlin's eyes were soft, with no irritation. Only patience. 'Arthur.'

 Giving Mordred one more look he put his hand on the door's handle. 'Fine.'

 He hesitated when the door closed behind him. Merlin's voice was muffled and low through it. Arthur sighed, ignored the jealous and angry temptation to eavesdrop, and stepped away. When he walked into the living room he found the others standing, leaning, sitting around the sofa and chairs by the front bay windows. The music had been turned down low enough to keep the silence from turning uncomfortable. The clock hands pointed to ten to midnight on the wall, the second hand ticking away.

'Didn't kill him, did you?' William asked from the sofa's armrest. Arthur shook his head, lips pressed together, the last slivers of anger and tension ebbing away.

'What happened Friday, Arthur?' Percy asked, and pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against.

'We were attacked by Dorocha.'

'Why didn't you say anything?'

'What's the point?'

'What do you mean?'

'None of you could have helped. It happened and we survived. Sort of. Telling you,' he paused. 'We all know the situation. Being attacked is a part of that. Not to mention what happened to Gwaine. That takes priority.'

'They seem equally important to me,' Percy said.

'They're not, okay?' he snapped. 'Merlin and I, we're the ones who brought all this shit into your lives. Not the other way around. It's our fault. Which is fine. Merlin has his magic, and I— I'm with him. All of you, you were with us so far as dealing with magic goes, with people like Nix. But the undead? A tear between the worlds of the living and dead? There your safety takes priority because it was never meant to be your fight.'

'You know that's not your job—'

'It's got nothing to do with my job. It's about what's right and wrong, okay? I refuse to see your lives ruined because of my decisions. Not again. Not ever. I'm willing to bet most of you are willing to die to protect innocent people, each other, and as police that's great. Even dealing with magic it's great. But the chances of you losing your lives increases _ten fold_ when it comes to this Dorocha nonsense, and that's not okay.'

'We can't exactly turn a blind eye to it. We can help and it's just as much of a threat—'

'You're not getting it.'

'I do,' Gwen said. 'You're wrong, but I get it. Thank you for caring so much, but remember that we care about you and Merlin just as much. If involving us with the Dorocha situation will distract you, then I'll stay out of it.'

'Five minutes, guys,' Elyan told them and stood up. Arthur heard footsteps come down the stairs and he turned to see Merlin and Mordred. They both seemed more at ease, although Mordred's expression was darker than it had been when he'd arrived. William moved to Mordred's side immediately.

'We'll be going,’ Mordred said darkly.

'Fireworks are about to go off,' Lance started, 'You might as well join us outside. Grab a drink if you want one.'

'Great idea, thanks,' William said with an oddly charming smile. Arthur blinked away the strange image of him standing with Mordred, one lighthearted and the other with an expression like a storm cloud. Merlin was already picking out several beers from the fridge. The conversation upstairs had sobered him up, but there was a slight freeness to his movements that showed he was a little out of it. Gwen and Lance were the first to head out, then Lance, Percy and Elyan with Mordred and William in tow. Leon waited behind and gave a long look, clapped him on the shoulder and left.

 Three minutes. Arthur watched the hand tick, tick, tick.

'Here,' Merlin said and handed him an opened beer. 'Thanks.'

'For what?'

'Giving me time to talk to Mordred alone. I know that was hard for you. So, thank you,' he explained, and gave him a small smile and with it some of the distance between them he'd felt since Friday night closed. 'About Morgana—'

'I know,' he said, and they started to walk outside.

 Grabbing their coats, they stepped into the cold air. Ahead at the wall in front of the Thames they saw their friends, with Mordred and William, clustered. Other people had joined them, forming a rank of laughing and celebration strangers which ran as far as Arthur could see down the street on either side. He and Merlin joined them at the wall just as people began the countdown. It was surreal to be there again, the same celebration each year, when the last had been so different, and all the years before that impossibly normal in comparison.

 Arthur took a swig from his beer, laced his hand with Merlin's, let go of as much as he could and followed the others' count, 'Five! Four! Three!'

 Merlin's voice chimed in, 'Two! One!'

 Gold sparks and red, white, blue, fire broke out against the sky. Exploding crackles and the shimmering sound of falling fireworks filled the air above the buildings. Round after round, lights sparked through the darkness. It reflected in the dark water, a strange shifting mirror for the colours. Close by the sound echoed in Arthur's chest, behind them, ahead, either side. Like a drumbeat, a heartbeat, in the sky and ground, each explosion of light keeping them all alive.

 He couldn't even smile. Everything was perfect. He felt Gwen press a kiss to his cheek, and then he looked at Merlin, each firework lighting his face up with a different colour. He was grinning, a child-like joy, and Arthur smiled. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, met Merlin's lips, his warmth, and stayed there with him as another barrage of fireworks cracked through the air. When he pulled back and opened his eyes Merlin's stared back at him. Blue. Gold. He loved them either way.

'We can do this,' he said. It came out like a whisper with the laughter, explosions, the sloshing sound of the water and conversations around them.

 Merlin looked over his face with a curious frown which turned into another, softer smile. 'Yeah. I mean if we don't it's sort of the end of the world, so.'

 Arthur laughed with horror, disbelief, recognition, exhilaration. 'No pressure.'

'None at all.’

 He didn’t know how part of him felt like they would do it, survive, be happy, while another part felt like this was it. This was the end. This is what would kill them. But Merlin had said it all. They didn’t have much of a choice. Like hell would he do nothing about the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Imagine:  
> Happier by Ed Sheeran  
> Get It by Kyla La Grange  
> Shape Of You by Ed Sheeran  
> Blinded by Emmit Fenn  
> Castle by Halsey  
> Not In Love by Crystal Castles  
> Break The Chain by IAMX  
> We Could be Beautiful by Wrabel  
> Rollercoaster by Bleachers


	17. Enemy

'We have to close the rift, and if she is like them, when we do she’ll—'

The bloody tissues in Mordred's hand blackened at the edges, curling in on themselves until the flames grew and chased the soft white fabric into black smoke.

'I just thought you should know,' Mordred said, each word clipped. 'I'm glad you're all right. And sorry again, Arthur. Will and I should go since you're not going to help.'

Merlin moved to block his way. 'No, wait. Arthur, can you leave?'

'Why?'

He saw the insecurity in his eyes, a reflection of what he'd seen Friday night. 'Arthur.'

'Fine.'

Merlin watched him glare once more at Mordred before he left and the door closed behind him. Where did he even begin? Mordred stared at him with a guarded expression. He could feel his magic, but only with close proximity. Whatever they had felt before his coma, before Nimueh's enchantment, had changed.

'Mordred,' he started and stepped closer.

'Don't.'

He pressed his lips together.

'You don't know what it took for me to come here. Seeing you again,' Mordred paused, his eyes fixed on him with a look of loss, anger, and something Merlin couldn't decipher. 'I swore to myself I wouldn't.'

'Why?'

'You know why,' he said, stopping as if the reason was too dark, heinous, to say aloud. He took a deep breath, staring down into Merlin's chest for a while before meeting his eyes again. His demeanour changed like the surface of a lake with a sudden gush of wind. 'Morgana hugged me, we danced together, we spoke just like you and I are now. How can she be anything like the things I hear screaming? I never saw her die, Merlin. I saw her run through and fall from a mountain, sure, but you've survived similar. Why couldn't she?'

He could think of several reasons. Seeing him so twisted up by it made it difficult to shut him down the way he would anyone else. Mordred was different. He was somehow more accessible as another person, not just as someone who had magic and a past life. It also made him more vulnerable. Or it showed the vulnerability that had always been there under layers of practiced lies and acting. He no longer buried that side of himself away. Merlin understood. Maybe that was why he'd begun feeling him again. He'd never felt so exposed and whittled down to the bone before in his life and here Mordred was. The same but different. Exposed, but not weakened by it the way Merlin was.

'I don't believe she's alive, but I do believe you when you say she's as real to you as I am. It's not like any of us know how this works. You know, Dorocha, magic,' he trailed off.

'You won't help me find her?'

'I'm going to close the rift before anything,' he said. It wasn't a complete answer, but he didn't have one. How could he? It was crazy to think she'd be alive. Of course his own soul or whatever was pushing him to kill himself. The pale clear blue-grey of Mordred's eyes studied him closely, and there was that unfamiliar tug of cool magic like a rush of adrenaline through his blood. It had him on edge, and had replaced the bloody coughing fits. The urge to confide in him was overwhelming. 'I also need to deal with the IPCC, my entire team losing their trust in me, and the resurgence of magic. My plate is kind of full.'

Mordred's guarded look faded. 'What did you do?'

He almost told him. 'Don't worry about me. I promise that I'll help you anyway I can once the rift is closed, and before that if it's an emergency.' The beer buzz was gone and he couldn't look away. 'So,' he began, 'you didn't come to the hospital because—'

'I was scared and angry at myself. I wanted to move on.'

'Move on,' Merlin repeated with a small smile. 'Don't we all?'

'I was wrong,' Mordred said. 'I think we need to evolve, not cut each other off. Will's helped a lot with figuring it out.'

Merlin nodded, processing the image of the two walking in together on a deeper level. 'Yeah, retroactively realising your school friend was also a past life friend is strange, but seeing you two together is stranger.'

Silence filled the space between them again.

'In a good way,' Merlin added. He wasn't sure if it was the truth or not. When Mordred looked away and made to step around him to the door Merlin hugged him. Chin over his shoulder, arms wrapped diagonally around his chest and shoulder, chests together. It took a second, but he felt Mordred hold him back. He was apprehensive at first, but the next moment the hug tightened and they settled into each other. Merlin breathed in the familiar smell of Mordred's hair, skin, the pulse of their magic with the contact.

Mordred held onto him, buried his face into his shoulder, and Merlin didn't want to let go. He had to, though. Always, _always_ , he had to and needed to and what he wanted took second or third or tenth place in life. When he drew away Mordred mirrored his movements until they were right where they had been, little over a foot apart in silence.

'I missed you,' Merlin said. 

Mordred lifted his hand to his cheek, brushed it with his thumb, the motion familiar and resonant with his memory, warm. The magic, cool and urgent, moved through him like a wet spring wind. Barely there, gone a second later, pushing but welcoming at the same time. His breaths drew out deeper and longer, and he watched Mordred's eyelids close slowly, the edge of his thumb trailing back down his skin like they had all the time in the world. They moved closer, his mind processing things faster than they were happening. It forced him to slow down, think less, forced him to truly feel the warmth of Mordred's palm on the side of his face, the way his dark lashes rested on his cheek, the impossible way his breath was warm, salty, and fresh like his body contained its own sea.

They weren't the same. Mordred's mouth on his was strange, wet, slow. The cool tug in his blood drove him closer, to let the sensation swallow him whole as he opened his mouth further. Part of his mind registered the water running in, down his throat, drowning him. The other only knew the heat of the kiss, the catharsis, the release of something hard he'd held in his chest for months. Unknotted, unfurled, and washed away.

Merlin inhaled sharply.

Mordred's hands pulled back and Merlin took his own back from where they'd laced their way into his hair, under his shirt.

'No,' Mordred said, his voice soft and breathless. 'We shouldn't have done that.'

'Maybe we needed to,' Merlin reasoned. He'd almost died. He'd lost Arthur. He'd thought it was better to distance himself from people, things, that he was probably never going to see again, move on from like Mordred had said. It was naive. Any time he had to be with the people he loved he would use and treasure. It felt like time was running out. 'Do you ever think, in another life, we could have worked?'

Mordred's stare was unblinking, pupils dilated, and dark. 'Every day. But you have Arthur and I have Will. I think we're better off. Don't you?'

Merlin let the last lungful of sea water go. God, it was strange, the way his lungs had burned, how he could feel himself falling into Mordred all over again. Only without enchantment. Without the strength of their magical connection. It was primal, natural, chemical. It made him forget and then miss Arthur. It made him want it all.

He opened the door. Together they left the room and their silence. Merlin tried to keep the panic over the moment contained, tried to understand the calmness that had settled inside like fallen Autumn leaves, and walked straight for more beer downstairs.

'We'll be going,’ Mordred said.

'Fireworks are about to go off,' Lance told him. 'You might as well join us outside. Grab a drink if you want one.'

'Great idea, thanks,' Will said, the sound of his voice surreal. Merlin took in deep fridge-cooled breaths. Part of him had wanted more of a physical or magical reaction to seeing Mordred in the flesh. Something that might explain why he saw him, shared his breaths when he had been dying. Part of him wanted to cry with a sudden tightness in his chest. What could have been? They would have been happy. They could still be, as friends, _maybe_. He wanted to cry knowing that there was so much standing in the way before he could be sure Arthur was safe, that they could have that happiness. If it even existed. Life was never that easy. He took the beers out, opened two, and joined Arthur in the living room. The others had already filtered out.

'Here,' Merlin said and gave him one. 'Thanks.'

'For what?'

'Giving me time to talk to Mordred alone. I know that was hard for you. So, thank you,' he said. They'd kissed, it had been everything, it had closed a door. It was nothing compared to what he felt just being _around_ Arthur. They couldn't even be compared. A sun and a moon. A world apart. He couldn't imagine ever losing that light. Losing him. The tightness was there in his chest again, squeezing with its claws. Arthur's expression was sombre. What Mordred had said would have hurt him a lot. He couldn't even start to understand how Arthur must have felt about losing Morgana. 'About Morgana—'

'I know,' he said. Gentle, and unwilling to push the subject further. They started to walk outside, grabbed their coats, and stepped into the cold air.

 

* * *

 

Arthur was slowing down for him. The morning air was unforgiving, refreshing, freezing, and his face had turned numb ten minutes ago. Dawn was blue, hazy, and cold. His breaths were more ragged than he was used to, his muscles straining harder than they should have been, and it was infuriating. Merlin sucked in another lungful and forced his body to move faster, to embrace each impact as he ran across the hard frosted grass in Hyde Park. Today was the day Kilgharrah would tell the team they'd killed Phoebe. Today was the day their careers ended.

'Come on, Merlin!' Arthur called, face pink and lips spread into a large smile. The bank holiday Monday had given them time to work on the double homicide, process Friday, and get more of his things shifted out of Gwaine's flat and into Arthur's.

Merlin gritted his teeth, ignored the stitch, and managed to catch up with him. Living with him again, even if only for three nights, had been strange. They were doing it for safety, necessity, not explicitly because they loved each other or had reached that point in their relationship. Merlin had played with the idea that, in a way, they were the same thing. They did love each other. They had almost died together. Lost each other. Again. Maybe their relationship ran to a different beat than most. Most couples weren't detectives, hunted by the undead, or had been friends for years in a medieval and mythologised past life. _Couples_. It didn't fit what they were.

The dull hollow ache of exhaustion broke. Endorphins bubbled up in his chest and he laughed, ran even harder, remembered why he'd become so addicted to exercise before the coma. They'd come full circle, past the lake and the open fields of grass lined with benches, the wooded sections of giant trees, back to the maze-like cluster of hedges. His trainers thumped against the concrete path. Merlin grinned with the exhilaration and jogged, slowed until he stopped by the fountain. The intersection was quiet, a round space lined with benches and dark green hedges. It was private, with large evergreen tree tops filling the skyline. In the summer the flowers would bloom. He could see it now, remember the colours from the year before. All they needed was time. With it came longer days, sunlight, and care.

Cold splats on his head brought his mind back into focus. Rain. He was alone.

'Arthur?' he called and turned around to look back where he had run. Panic flooded him with a cold ache. At least thirty metres off he saw him. The fear rolled back and faded, but left behind a heavier heartbeat. Blond hair darker with sweat, his skin pale in stark contrast to the dark hoodie and tracksuit trousers. Merlin's heart thumped heavily, his mouth was dry, and his body hummed with energy. When Arthur caught up he gave him a crooked smile and small frown.

'I haven't seen you run like that, well, _ever_ ,' he said through laboured breaths. 'Surprised you could with how bony you are.'

Merlin couldn’t stop the glare, or the way his mind latched onto _bony_ with dark pleasure and a sharp rush.

'It's all said with love,' Arthur added with a wink before he squinted up into the grey slate of a sky. It was 8:05 a.m. and the sun was finally lightening the clouds. 'We should get inside. Half an hour to walk back, shower, change, taxi to work, and we'll be there by half nine latest.'

It sounded so normal. 'We better go then.'

They walked quickly, quietly, bought water, and made it back in twenty-five minutes. Once they'd showered and dressed they were in the taxi headed to their new headquarters. The rain had picked up in staccato starts and stops, every now and then clattering against the window panes with hail.

'This is it,' Arthur said, 'isn't it?'

Merlin watched the traffic pass them by. 'Probably.'

When the taxi pulled up to curb a wave of wet-cold moved through him. He dragged in a long breath but his heart still pumped out blood as if he were running, running away, for fitness, with Arthur, for his life, alone.

He climbed out behind Arthur and they walked up the steps towards the building. The ground was wet and reflected the grey sky, the angles and glass of the walls. Merlin spotted Gwaine before he did them. What he'd told them at the hospital danced through his head like a mocking ballet. Nix had possibly drugged him, tried to kill him, was definitely watching them, knew they were investigating him. Sometimes he hated how tangled life was.

'Gwaine!' Merlin called out and waved.

He followed the sound and flashed a grin but it disappeared too quickly and rushed up to them. 'There you two are.'

'Been waiting long?' Arthur asked just as his mobile started to ring.

'Pathologist's report came in on the Bedford Square victims. I couldn't get a hold of you even though your phone _does_ apparently work,' Gwaine continued. 'One of you need to head over there since you're leading the case. DCI Kilgharrah's already left. They're being looked at in the Ian West suite.'

'Speaking?' Arthur said into his phone and then looked at Merlin with a frown. He held it out. 'It's for you. He tried calling but since your phone broke when, you know—‘

'Who is it?' Merlin asked and took it.

Arthur's voice dropped to a low note when he said, 'DCS Agravaine.'

'Why don't you head over to mortuary?' he suggested, clocked the refusal about to leave Arthur's mouth, and added, 'We'll sort out everything else once we're all back in the incident room, okay?’

'You can give it back to me later,' Arthur added, nodding at the phone and then jogged down the steps to where Gwaine had parked his car.

He put the phone to his ear as Arthur left with Gwaine in tow.

'DS Emrys?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I need to see you in my office immediately.'

'What about?'

'Immediately, Sergeant. That's an order.'

The call ended and Merlin found himself unwilling to move. Agravaine, in this life and the last, had it out for him. He'd been obsessed with Morgana and Merlin knew he hated him even more because of what happened the year before. Morgana's arrest, her ruined reputation, then her going ‘missing’. If he knew she were dead? Or at least that she was supposed to be dead. Christ, he just wanted to put that part of his life to rest once for all.

Merlin slipped Arthur's phone into his jean's pocket and went inside. Plain clothes and uniformed officers passed, milled, and talked around him none the wiser as he steadily progressed to Agravaine's office. Kilgharrah's incident room, their reasonably secure and private pocket of CID operations, was a floor above where Agravaine had been moved as an attachment to another missing person's enquiry. He hadn't been directly involved in any of their cases as far as Merlin was aware. Of course he'd been mildly distracted from usual operations, with repeatedly almost dying, magic, etc.

When Merlin stepped out of the lift and crossed into the room a clerk had direct him to he was affronted by a mess of words, file stacks, coffee cups, empty take-away boxes and at least ten detectives in varying degrees of exhaustion, coffee-highs, or absorption. Several pictures were pinned up on a board on the far right. Five people, their life details written alongside their stolen and time-frozen faces.

DCS AGRAVAINE glared at him from the name plaque on a light wood door to the left. The blinds of the window that faced into the room were drawn closed. No one paid him any attention as he wove his way through the chaos and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' a low voice called. Fear and anxiety had knotted their way into his chest, pulling and cutting at his composure. Taking a moment to breathe, to remind himself that there were more important things in the grand scheme of life than his career, income, his childhood dream of being a detective—

Inside the room he closed the door behind himself and Agravaine directed him to the chair in front of the desk. The tension was strange, not hard or overtly detectable. If anything it was soft, like the way an occasional string played in the background of an old horror movie.

'Sergeant Emrys,' Agravaine began once he had sat down.

'Superintendent,' Merlin said, mirroring the declaration of rank like an accusation.

Agravaine pursed his lips, then leaned forward with he elbows on the desk. 'This is a courtesy meeting.'

Merlin waited. His heart was hammering away at him as if it could help somehow. Beat a little faster, a little harder, and you'll survive. _Prat_. He blinked at the word he'd used. Arthur was usually the prat. Had he just referred to his heart the same way as Arthur?

'An informal investigation into you has been launched.'

Agravaine's words plunged through his focus. His heartbeat actually slowed. What he'd feared was happening. At least there was no more wondering on that front.

'Haven't we been through this before? I'm not corrupt and I have never miscarried justice,' he said, surprised by the conviction in his voice. 'Sir.'

'So you say.'

'It's the truth.'

Again, it sounded like he meant it. It scared him a little. He'd never been good at telling lies but somewhere in the last year he'd become an expert.

Agravaine glared at him. 'Then explain the presence of Nix at the murder scene in Bloomsbury Friday night. Explain your disappearance after attending a party held at his flat in the City.'

'I didn't disappear. I went home—'

'To Sergeant Pendragon's flat?'

There it was. Judgement. Controlled and contained but clear in the way his eyebrow arched, the subtle flare of his nostrils, the flicker of a cruel and mocking smile. If he hadn't been trained and experienced in spotting the signs he'd never have seen the homophobia.

'We're friends,' he half-lied again. 'We all are.'

'Then where were you in the three following days?'

'Ill,' he said. There was no hesitation or fumbling now. He barely even registered the discomfort he felt at lying. Something buried it deep beneath a false memory of himself coughing with a high fever in his bed.

'That doesn't explain your lack of response during an ongoing enquiry, let alone the fact that you are one of its leading detectives. Your behaviour has been highly unprofessional and your skirting the edge of making serious breaches in procedure and discipline.'

'Is this some kind of tribunal?'

'Not yet. Like I said, this is simply a courtesy, but rest assured this is a serious matter and is being dealt with accordingly,' he continued.

'And you're one of the officers investigating me?'

'Merlin, the least you can do is explain yourself. If you have nothing to hide I don't see why you wouldn't be up front.'

He was giving him the kind of look that would have pushed him into an anxiety attack six years before. Agravaine had nothing on staring down a Dorocha. It was close to funny in comparison.

'Nix showed up at the crime scene on Friday because he's clever. He knows he's a suspect and he wanted to threaten me. I have no control over that.'

Agravaine considered it and sat up straight. 'You certainly have a habit of becoming personally involved with your suspects. Don't think I've forgotten about what happened with Cenred. Bayard may not have found the evidence, and Aredian may well have been the one to cut the sod's throat, but I don't doubt for a moment you put him in hospital. I also find it wholly convenient he was murdered before he could tell anyone what happened in that interview room, the recordings for which were mysteriously corrupted. Then Aredian Carr himself and how he also died outside our old headquarters, supposedly of natural causes although I doubt that too. And now Nix. I'm beginning to wonder if murder is not just something you investigate but _instigate_. Someone should warn the man.'

'Three cases out of over twenty. That's not a habit, Superintendent, it's part of the job.'

'You're walking on thin ice, Sergeant.'

'And you've had a vendetta against me from the start.'

'Now that is a _serious_ accusation.'

‘Like you said, it’s a serious matter.'

'The way DCI Kilgharrah runs your Team is already suspect. Letting yourself and Sergeant Pendragon act as de facto SIOs on murder enquiries is _not_ protocol. The Central Command Unit relies heavily on each of its teams and if you are found to be officially in breach of _any_ procedures you will face a tribunal. Not only will you lose your job with the Met,' he paused as the shadows in his face darkened, 'but you will face criminal charges. If my suspicions are correct.'

'Your suspicions?'

'Do you understand what I'm saying, Sergeant?'

Merlin bit his tongue. He could say so much. Call him out on being the vengeful little bastard he was, whether or not his suspicions were correct.

'Yes, sir.'

'Excellent. Get out.'

'What suspicions?'

'You really want to know?'

'Enlighten me.'

'Tough luck. Leave before I suspend you.'

Merlin stood up. Snatching his coat from the back of the chair he left Agravaine's office and headed up a floor to their incident room.

No one was there. Arthur, Gwaine and Kilgharrah were at the morgue, he knew that. Where the others were stumped him. Everyone had already settled in and claimed their desks. He could tell whose was whose just by the arrangements and decorations.

Arthur's was joint with Gwen's, his side as immaculate as hers. She had a picture of Lance smiling with her in his arms taped onto the bottom of the computer screen. Arthur's had a stack of files piled up on one side and an empty coffee mug on the other. Gwaine's was messier with crumpled pieces of paper, a mess he'd only have had the chance to make that same morning. His own desk, as of yet a place he hadn't made his own, faced Gwaine's. It was empty. Untouched.

Leon shared the one corner of the room with the file cabinets and then Percy and Elyan's desks had notes strewn between them, with two small cacti and coffee cups from Starbucks sat dubiously close to their keyboards.

Merlin moved in and sat down at his empty desk. They had two boards. One with photos of the magically-murdered victims, the smiling pictures alongside images of their dead bodies. The other with the Bedford Square victims, again with the real and happy light still in their eyes stuck up in line with shots from the park. Beside's Isabella Hemming's name was 'Bella' written in brackets. She was engaged to Jack Emsdon for two months. Aaron Ward was single and had planned on moving to Seattle, USA, at the end of the year.

Several bullet points followed with information about possible motives for someone to kill them, but the most sinister thing up there was a ex-lover's feud for Aaron who'd broken off a long-term relationship with his university girlfriend, Jane Rogers. Also the possibility than Aaron and Bella were involved, in which case Jack Emsdon was a suspect. All circumstantial. Not a shred of evidence. They had to interview the fiancee, Rogers, search their flats, clarify the timelines they had for the night and morning leading up to their murders—

He felt stretched. Thinned out and strained through their dead bodies, their blood, the way time kept running out for normal people and his own life. Maybe he should buy an hourglass as the first decoration for his desk. A nice metaphor for their work and an ironic nod to his fucked up magic and the fate of the living world.

Where was everyone? Merlin took out Arthur's phone and called Gwaine. It rang several times before the Irishman answered.

'So?' he asked.

'Just finishing up the post mortem on Bella. Stab wounds match to your average kitchen knife, although her attacker was most likely male and either strong or skilled.'

'Skilled as in a hired killer?'

'Maybe, or he was strong, or both.'

'Any fibres or prints or? I know prelim forensics—'

'Nothing yet. The lab needs another day but I've pushed them to get it done by tomorrow morning latest.'

'Done Ward yet?'

'No.'

'Where is everyone?'

'Sorry, mate, should have told you. Gwen's gone with Elyan to interview Jane Rogers. Percy's talking to the fiancee and Leon went to take another look at the park.'

'Why wasn't I informed sooner?'

'I was a bit distracted with Kilgharrah breathing down my neck about grabbing one of you and getting you to the mortuary—'

'I'm the SIO on this case, Gwaine. Interviewing key suspects needs to be run through me first—'

'Woah, hold on, Merlin. It's never been an issue before and no offence but you're MIA a lot of the time. If we waited for your okay whenever we found or did something for our cases we'd lose half our year. Kilgharrah's the Inspector and he—'

Merlin sighed loudly. 'Sure. That's true. It's just not protocol, but then again I don't exactly follow it myself.'

'You all right?'

'You're a good detective, you know.'

'Okay.'

'You'll be fine.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing.'

'Bollocks.'

'Tell me what you find with Bella,' he said and hung up. When the thought struck him he shoved it away as disjointed, twisted, insane. There was a tug and he reeled it back. It was so simple. So glaringly obvious. It explained why he'd had that urge to hurt himself. It was more than feeling worthless, like a burden, an ugly excuse for a person, a monster. Like Kilgharrah had said, he wanted to live. He did. Being with Arthur, breathing air, feeling happy or confused or scared, he wanted it all. But he should have died, and when he didn't his magic tore the veil so he could come back.

Merlin listed the options out in his head: 1) Diminish aka die. 2) Let part of himself die with unknown effects. 3) Resist and not let anything die or leave him which will either fix everything or kill him.

One wasn't an option, not really. It was two and three that hung in the balance and would only become relevant when he tried it. It was a crazy, far-fetched, and suicidal thought that also made the most sense of it all. Finding the rift in the living world could take them years, decades, if it wasn't in London and by then Dorocha and the Cailleach would have destroyed everything if magic users hadn't.

Two birds with one scary stone. Sort the Dorocha and whatever was going on in his head. He had to go back to where it started. He had to go back to whatever his mind had made him forget. He had to _almost_ die. Not like when he jumped from the balcony, and not like when the Dorocha attacked. He resisted it both times and they were both too fatal and quick.

If he got back to that place he could undo whatever he did.

'Shit,' he said. Merlin shivered even though it wasn't cold at all. Any anger, anxiety, over Agravaine's warning slipped away. The calm that filled him was unsettling and comforting at the same time. The running order came to him step by step. Replicate what happened as best as he could, keep his magic at bay if it bothered to help in the first place, and see what happens. ‘Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.'

He ran his hands over his face, mildly alarmed at how cold they were, and got up. He had to tell Arthur. He'd hate it, tell him no, but if he did Merlin would make it clear that he'd go ahead with it with or without his blessing.

He needed Arthur to understand. To tell him it made sense. Merlin made his way back out onto the street. It was terrifying. There was a cold scrape at the back of his head. Maybe this was just a new way for the part of him to manipulate him. His own mind was the enemy. _Fucking always_. His stomach growled, low, and he felt that hollow ache in his throat. Merlin had made it a five minute walk towards the mortuary when Arthur’s phone rang. Gwaine was calling back. He frowned. A post mortem usually took close to an hour if not longer. How could they be done already? When he saw the time his stomach dipped. 10:43 a.m. How had so much time gone by?

‘It’s bad,’ Gwaine said the second he swiped answer.

‘Explain.’

‘Aaron Ward was killed by someone shorter than himself judging by the angle of the stab wounds. Same weapon, but very different amount of force. They’re shallow in comparison to Bella’s. The pathologist found tissue under Bella’s fingernails and has sent it to forensics which will take a few days, but Merlin,’ he stopped and let out a breath, 'Arthur and I have the same idea. Kilgharrah wants to wait for the tissue sample to confirm DNA—'

'Same weapon, but the attacker was different. Shorter, couldn’t overpower him as much as Bella evidently was, so there’s a high chance they were female or an adolescent male. Two killers, most likely one male and one female. Most likely,’ Merlin said. ‘Only there are no witnesses, and as far as we know they were the only ones in the park. No weapon left at the scene, no sign of someone having fled—'

'It’s too soon to tell. Either there are two killers who took the weapon with them, an escape which would have been impossible without being seen unless they used, you know.'

'Or the two killers never left the park in the first place. Only the weapon did.'

'Which is fucking disturbing because Aaron apparently died before Bella did. So he’d have been dead when he tried to kill her, if they killed each other. It’s twisted either way.'

He heard a shuffle on the other side and then Arthur’s voice came through, 'Nix might have been there for more than threats, Merlin.’

‘We have to wait for the forensics and find that weapon, if we can, before we make any assumptions.’

‘Bloody hell. Are you still at the Yard?’

‘I was heading to you, but if you’ve finished up—'

‘Kilgharrah’s organised a meet at 5 this afternoon. Inner circle only.’

‘Great. I need to talk to you.’

‘You are.’

‘In person. It’s important. The sooner it happens the better. Lower body count and all.’

‘Stay where you are. We’re going back now. Gwen and Elyan should have finished up with the Roger’s girl by now too.’

‘See you in a bit,’ Merlin said.

‘Yeah. Love you.’

The call ended before he could say anything else. Merlin smiled to himself. He knew it was a slip of the tongue at the end of a phone conversation with someone you care about, but it made him warm all over. It was perfect and natural. Arthur was going to hate him when he told him his idea. Ice washed away his warmth and he put the phone away. The implications if they killed each other weren’t good. Nix’s involvement made it worse. He turn back down the street, Parliament rising and diving on his right side in its grand structure, Big Ben locked up and hidden away for the renovation works. Tourists and locals moved around him in throngs.

‘You look even worse than you did Friday, darling.’

Merlin jumped when Nix stepped up alongside him as he crossed the road. ‘How the fuck did you find me here?’

Nix wiggled his fingers. ‘Magic.’

Merlin walked faster and ground his teeth together. Anger. He was beginning to go into fight or flight mode with all the obstacles, threats, in every part of his life. The urge to break something, to make himself feel the _burn,_ welled up in his chest.

‘More warnings?’ he asked, aware of how close they were getting to the headquarters.

‘Brunch.’

He bit out a laugh. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’re a murderer,’ he said with a smile of disbelief. _Brunch_?

‘Aren’t we all killers?’ Nix replied, a quirk to the corner of his mouth and his eyes seemed to scan over Merlin completely, invasively.

‘Piss off.’

‘I just want to help you.’

‘You’re disturbed.’

‘And so are you.’

‘Brunch?’ Merlin repeated, slowing down now to come to a full stop two buildings before New Scotland Yard. The stones around them were old, washed clean and crisp with rain and snow, and almost seemed as alive with the past as the leafless trees landing the street did with nature.

‘A quick bite and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

He appeared genuinely concerned and interested. ‘I’m under investigation.’

‘For murder?’

‘Misconduct.’

‘Naughty boy.’

Merlin had to actively keep himself from hitting Nix. ‘Did you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Kill them. Make them kill each other. It can’t have been a coincidence you appeared on Friday at that exact crime scene. Sink your drug-addled claws into them?’

‘Your out of luck there, darling.’

‘You weren’t involved, then?’

‘You like it,’ Nix drawled out, voice soft with awe and realisation. Merlin measured out his breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth, to calm down. ‘I can see it. You like suffering. Not in a masochistic way, no. You like it because you don’t know any better. You thrive off it. Danger, murder, secrets, it’s what keeps you strong and trained up.’

‘Avoiding the question.’

‘I want you.’

‘I’m not interested.’

‘Not like that, not sexually or otherwise. I want you, Merlin. Who you are. What you could be. I want to show you—'

‘Never,’ he bit out, ’Going. To. Happen.’

Nix sighed. ‘It’s that blonde you run around with, isn’t it? I can spot a misguided influence a mile away. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger.’

‘I am _sick_ of people like you. This is it. I see you again and I’m not arresting you—'

Nix lifted his eyebrow with a small smile. ’No?’

‘I’m sending you to some nameless, timeless hell and you can find your own bloody way out.’

When Nix’s stare shifted over Merlin’s shoulder his body ran cold. He wanted to turn around and check, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

‘He’s attractive and protective. I’ll give you that,’ Nix said. ‘But he’ll never be enough for you.’

Merlin blinked and Nix was gone, the faintest trail of a dark grey vapour in the air. It twisted up and coiled, tapering out thin and barely visible. A gust of wind severed it into several wisps to be dragged away with the breeze.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Enemy:  
> Scars by IAMX  
> We Must Be Killers by Mikky Ekko  
> E.S.T. by White Lies  
> Depraved by Mammals  
> ***  
> Love Runs Out by OneRepublic  
> Visions of a Life by Wolf Alice  
> Virgin by Manchester Orchestra  
> Rival by Ruelle  
> Help Yourself by Bryde  
> Contagious by Night Riots  
> I Am Terrified by IAMX  
> Dangerous Game by Klergy, BEGINNERS


	18. Be Brave

The second Nix had blown away Merlin turned around. Arthur walked up the steps, Gwaine by his side, with dark expressions. Kilgharrah had already crossed over to the entrance and disappeared behind glass and shadows. His heart seized for a moment, then that coldness settled into his chest and limbs and he let it fill him up. It didn't settle his nerves, and it didn't help at all with the sickness that stirred in his stomach. He was going to tell Arthur that he had to almost die to stop the Dorocha. Then, in little over five hours all his friends would hate him, or pity him, or even worse. They might forgive him.

He let out a controlled, slow breath. Merlin waited until he was certain they'd be back in the incident room before he made his way inside. Each step grew harder and heavier as he grew closer. When the lift doors slid open Merlin froze. Everything became sharper, brighter, as if his mind was actively trying to catalogue the incident room, Scotland Yard, in anticipation of his leaving it forever. This was when he lost all he'd worked towards for over six years.

'There you are,' Gwaine said as he stepped into the incident room. Kilgharrah stood by the murder board, Aaron and Isabella smiling and dead behind him, with Arthur by his side. He was pouting slightly, brows furrowed, and Gwaine's usually happy disposition was damp, wet with the memory of their dead flesh.

'Are you all right? You look upset,' Gwen asked, a file open in her hand where she leaned against Arthur's desk close to the board.

'What did Jane Rogers have to say?’ Gwaine asked.

'She hated Aaron, but her alibi is solid. She was up in Aberdeen with her family when the murders took place,' Elyan said.

'And has Percy called about the fiancee yet?'

'Dead end. Jack Emsdon was at work, with CCTV to prove it, and two dozen witnesses. He doesn't think Bella and Aaron were having an affair, but then they all think that,' Gwen said.

'Simply put, we have no suspects, no motive, not witnesses, and no evidence.'

'At least not anything that doesn't point to something we'd be able to prove in court.'

'Do they know?' Merlin asked Arthur.

'Yeah, we just updated them.'

Gwaine nodded. 'After what we saw at Amanda's flat, and knowing what Merlin can do with his magic, everything is possible. Including our two victims killing each other.'

'Which means we do have a suspect,' Arthur added.

Merlin crossed his arms. 'Nix.'

Arthur looked at him with dark eyes. 'Which ties into Old Religion's resurgence and Amanda's murder.'

'Leon's on his way back. He's grabbing Percy too,' Gwaine cut in, checking his mobile.

'Phoebe's disappearance,' Gwen said and something cold and sharp shot through Merlin. 'He could have had something to do with that. When Nimueh headed Old Religion last year they had a drug den. Maybe they have something similar again.'

'They're smarter than that,' Gwaine said. 'I mean he tried to kill me for a start. She's more likely dead than being held somewhere.'

Merlin's chest was tight. He couldn't breathe properly. Cold waves rolled through him, followed by hot, then an unsteady heartbeat.

'Arthur,' he said, stare fixed on a corner of a desk and unfocused.

'What is it?'

'I can't wait.'

'Wait for what?' Gwaine asked and Merlin forced his vision to clarify, and took a long and slow breath.

'Hang on a sec,' Arthur said and moved towards him, took his arm and led him out of the room, down the corridor, and into an empty conference room. Only when the door closed behind them did Merlin let out the shaking, choked off breath he'd held. 'Are you all rig—'

'No,' he snapped. 'Of course I'm not fucking all right. Arthur,' he stopped and pressed his hands over his face, blocking it all out. 'This is everything,' he continued. 'I know its my fault, but this is everything. I'm going to lose it. Just like you. They're never going to forgive me.'

Arthur watched him and with a soft, calm voice said, 'You had to. This isn't cold blood or gang crime or revenge murder. She was going to kill me and you saved my life. Which is what you're supposed to do.'

'Not with lethal force I'm not.'

'It was an accident. It's not like there's a separate manual for Met Police with bloody magic.'

Merlin winced at the memory. He let out a heavy sigh. 'In that split second when she attacked I _did_ want to kill her. Otherwise my magic wouldn't have done it. You get that, right?'

'Merlin—'

'Plus we've been lying. To their faces. For _weeks_. Even with the Dorocha and what happened with Gwaine, we've been hiding this.'

'Merlin, you did nothing wrong.'

Anger flashed through him, hot under his skin. It settled and shrunk back inside and left behind that hollow cold which hit him like exhaustion. 'Liar.'

'Fine. It was wrong, but that doesn't mean it wasn't the right thing to do.'

'That's exactly what it means.'

Arthur gave him a tired look. 'You know what I mean.'

'Meaning has nothing to do with this. Fact is what matters and the fact that I murdered a _victim_ —'

'Who had just killed her boyfriend—'

'Because he'd tried to rape her!' Merlin shouted back. That boy’s fingers moving up his legs, dragging down Phoebe's underwear, the sickening exposure she felt and the terror, absolute terror, twisted up his stomach all over again. He hadn't recalled it so vividly since he'd experienced it at Kings Cross Station.

'We've gone through this,' Arthur reminded him. 'We have to tell them.'

'I know.'

'You can't change the past.'

'Believe me, I know.'

'So take a deep breath and move on. Doing anything else is a waste.'

Merlin sighed but it didn't help. The weight and mix of everything inside didn't grow lighter, escape. If anything breathing made it harder and heavier.

'There's something else going on, isn't there?' Arthur asked.

'I had an idea earlier,' Merlin started, 'about how we could stop the Dorocha.'

'Well?'

'You're not going to like it.'

'Tell me anyway.'

Merlin closed his eyes and forced himself to let it out. Tear off the protective barrier of silence and secrets. 'I spoke with the Dorocha, and let them out of that place, when I was in a coma.'

'Yeah.'

Again, instinct closed his mouth and swallowed the words. He opened his eyes and locked with Arthur's. 'What if I were to go that place again?'

Arthur stared at him for a moment with a neutral expression. A shadow of a frown grew, then darkened, then scored itself into the skin between his blue eyes.

'What do you mean?'

It already hurt. A tension in his entire body, a headache that began to scrape its way with cold fingers inside his head. 'If I were to almost die I would go back there. Like before. It doesn't have to be a coma, just something similar. At least that's the theory.'

'Are you serious?' Arthur asked, voice low, arms folded.

'If my core body temperature were low enough I would go into a deep sleep, or if I lost enough blood at a slow enough pace that didn't kill me straight away that would probably work as well,' Merlin rambled through it, his voice sounding separate from himself. Steady and sure of itself, steadier than he felt. 'Then I could undo it.'

'You had better be bloody joking.'

'People are dying because of them. You were basically killed by them Friday,' he stopped to take in a sharp breath. 'I can't stand by and do nothing.'

'What about the physical veil? You tore it, and like before in Camelo—'

'That followed the rules, Arthur,' Merlin cut in, sad and frustrated by the reality of it. 'And Lancelot died to stop it. This time it wasn't torn by the Cailleach. It was me. I'm the one who can undo it. Kilgharrah said as much—'

'No.'

‘You’re—'

'No!' Arthur's voice hit Merlin's ears with surprising force. 'We find another way.'

'If you're not going to help me I'll do it myself.'

His frown deepened and a strange angry mask contorted Arthur's face. 'Excuse me?'

'I want you to be with me. I want your help, Arthur, but this is it. This is how I know we can stop them and,' he stopped, steeling himself, finding that will to fight if he had to. That fact that it was Arthur against him broke his heart. It made him colder. Stronger. Sadder. 'And I'll do it with or without you.'

'Is that a threat?' he asked, something dark and sharp clipping his words.

'What? No, it's just what—'

'I will chain you up in a bloody cell before I let you—'

Merlin scoffed, shocked and irritated. ' _Let_ me? You—'

'You're serious?'

'Yes, I—'

Arthur pressed his lips together and stood still with hard eyes. 'Fine.'

Merlin frowned at him. 'Fine?'

'I said fine.'

Arthur turned around and moved to the door. Merlin didn't understand the strange way their argument had fallen away. When Arthur spun back around towards him, with handcuffs clinking in his grasp, he reacted too slowly. Arthur's hand spun him around and he felt the cold metal lock around his left wrist. Merlin shoved back against him, his elbow slamming back into Arthur's ribcage.

Before he could think he swung out at him. His knuckles cracked into Arthur's face and pulled back smeared with blood.

Panic spiked through him. 'Shit, I'm sor—'

But Arthur didn't stop. He moved again and forced Merlin around, shoved him face down onto the table and tugged his right arm back, trying to lock it into the cuffs. Anger chewed up the momentary regret and Merlin growled and forced himself backwards. Momentum carried them both back into the wall with a loud bang and he felt the other cuff click shut around his right wrist. Arms locked behind him Merlin used his elbow to try and hit him, out of spite and anger. The impact forced a cough out of Arthur and then he pushed him away, into the door, which broke open and Merlin hit the opposing corridor wall, head first, with another bang. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his skull, blotched his vision, and his heartbeat picked up, racing, pounding like a war drum.

A little dazed, and breathing heavily, it took him another second to find the footing to struggle against Arthur when he began hauling him along back down the corridor. His one hand held onto Merlin's upper arm while the other had a fistful of his shirt. Merlin saw the Uniforms, clerks, other detectives look out of their offices and rooms with confusion and concern. He didn't care. Arthur had cuffed him. The nerve. The fucking arrogant idiot—

'Get this fucking off!' he shouted and tried to shake him off. When it didn't work he came to a full stop, pushed back against Arthur's forward shoves, and stomped down onto his foot with the heel of his shoe. Arthur cried out and the momentary distraction gave him the chance to charge out fo his grip, tripping with the speed of his motion, and he fell into their incident room. His face missed the hard ground by a few inches, and he already felt hot blood trickle down through his hair and temple. The carpet was rough against his cheek, and his shoulders ached where they were pulled back by the cuffs.

'Not after what you just said. No bloody way,' Arthur said as he pulled him back up to his feet.

'Arthur,' Merlin growled and glared at him, fully aware that he looked wild, a mess, and saw the same in Arthur.

'Merlin.'

His face was hard, jaw clenched. He wasn't going to back down. Frustration made his body hot and he drove his knee up, aiming for Arthur's crotch. The motion snapped something in Arthur's regained composure and he grabbed Merlin by his shirt, two fists, and with impossible strength forced him up and threw him down onto the closest desk.

All the breath rushed out of his lungs and his ears rang with the impact. More pain cut up his shoulder blades, crushed hands, sliced into his wrists where the metal bit in. He blinked several times and saw Gwaine shove Arthur and hold him back. When Merlin set up, slid back to the ground, he saw the tears in Arthur's eyes.

'If you do this—'

'What? We're over?' he bit out, terrified by the bitterness and cruelty of his own words. He ached all over, from the blows, the injury, but mostly from the way every muscle tensed and his heart sent his blood through every vein, artery, with terrifying force. Somehow, as twisted as it was, saying it felt good, cathartic. 'You'll never speak to me again?'

'Please,' he begged. 'Please.'

With stronger breaths Merlin felt himself calm down, his mind clear. 'I have to. You know I have to.'

'Why?' Arthur said, and the first tears struck wet lines down his cheeks. 'WHY!?'

His voice broke with the force of the word, question, accusation.

'If I don’t—' Merlin swallowed, holding back the heat filling up behind his own eyes. Arthur's bottom lip was bleeding, his hair was a mess, and he was practically shaking. He'd done that to him. But, there was no other way he could see and they didn't have time to find another. There was never enough time. 'Arthur, I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for it all. If I could make it so you didn't have to be involved—'

'Don't you bloody dare. I'm in this. Just, _please_ , don't do this to yourself for them. You're worth more to me than a thousand strangers' lives. A million.'

'It will cost more than that.'

'You're worth more than everyone. Anyone. Just not,' he broke off and run his hands over his face, through his hair, wiping angrily at the tears. 'Not _you_. Not you.'

'Arthur,' he exhaled.

'You better have a good explanation of what just happened,' Kilgharrah said. Merlin couldn't look away from Arthur. Gwaine stood by him, wildly confused, hand out to hold him back in case.

'Not you,' Arthur said. It said it all. He loved him so he'd lock him up, he'd hold him down, he'd do anything to stop him from doing something that could kill him. He'd do whatever it took to save him. And here he was asking Arthur to fight and reject that instinct and stand by him while he did it anyway.

Merlin stepped towards him. 'I'd prefer to do it with you.'

'You're not going to bloody do it without me, that's for sure. 'I'd kill you myself before I let that happen.'

A smile stretched his lips. Arthur took out the keys. Merlin turned around and Arthur's warm hands took his, his skin a little rougher, and he removed the metal. Merlin's smile left him.

'Are you two all right?' a voice asked from the door. Merlin turned to see another detective, from Trident Command, and nodded. 'That was violent. I thought it might have been an attack on us.'

'Small disagreement. That's all,' Arthur said, voice flat and drained of the earlier emotion. Merlin knew that Arthur would never be okay with it. He probably hated him for it, but he loved him more. Respected him more. And he probably knew he was right, as much as it hurt to be true. That's something he'd come to realise. That loving someone often meant expecting them to do the impossible.

'Inspector, is everything—'

'Got it under control, Constable,' Kilgharrah said. A moment after he'd disappeared back into the whispering corridor with passing curious faces Leon and Percy walked in. They were equally confused.

'What's going on with everyone?' Percy asked, then Leon hit his arm and nodded towards Arthur, then Merlin.

'Did someone try to—'

'Did it to each other, mate,' Gwaine cut him off and their concerned expressions shifted between amused, freaked out, and confused. 'Won't say what it's about either.'

Merlin wanted to crawl into a hole. He touched where the ache radiated from, fingers pressing into hot blood, and he winced. Arthur looked equally pained watching him do so.

'Shouldn't you go to a hospit—'

'No.' Merlin gave Arthur a look when they said it at the same time.

'We're all here now, Kilgharrah,' Arthur carried on, licking his cut lip gingerly. 'Maybe we should rip this plaster off now.'

Kilgharrah nodded. 'Percy, close the door.'

'Right,' Merlin huffed and sat down on the edge of Arthur's desk, adjusting his clothes where they'd been yanked.

'I'm afraid I'm going to ask you all to do something illegal.'

'Oh no,' Elyan said.

'Why?' Gwen asked.

'I need you all to swear you won't let what I'm about to tell you leave this room.'

They all nodded.

'I'll be blunt and straightforward. Phoebe Davies is dead.'

'What?' Leon asked but Kilgharrah held up his hand and silenced him.

'Merlin accidentally killed her,' he continued, 'when stopping an attack against Arthur. She tried to kill them, most likely in shock and under the influence of magic which she couldn't control.'

'Oh god,' Gwen whispered.

'A man has come forward with a recording of what happened. He tracked me down and is blackmailing us. In return for not making the video public he wants money as usual.'

'How much?' Percy asked.

'One million.'

Merlin's stomach twisted up even tighter.

'That insane,' Gwen said. 'We're police. We don't have that kind of money.'

'I'm afraid negotiation isn't possible. I've tried all ready.'

'Did you do it?' Gwaine asked Merlin, his brown eyes large and watchful.

'Yes,' Merlin said, meeting his eyes in spite of the anxiety, the cold hands that ran over his skin, the way the air buzzed with something unpleasant like the feeling he got in a forest in the dark, alone. Merlin frowned at the feeling. It was familiar. Not from Camelot, but something recent. Something terrifying. It was a memory.

'She was about to kill me,' Arthur added. 'If he hadn’t—'

'He murdered a girl,' Leon cut him off. 'There's no excuse.'

Merlin tried to let the dark flicker of a memory go. 'No, there's not.'

'I could pay it,' Arthur said.

Merlin glared at him. 'No.'

'My father left me—'

'No.'

Percy sighed. 'Even if we paid them there's no guarantee—'

'None of you need to worry. I'm handling it. This is more a case of letting you all know the truth.'

'How are you handling it?' Merlin asked.

'Curiosity is good, but in this case it's best you stay out of it.'

'What did you do with her?' Gwaine asked. 'Her body.'

Arthur's expression shifted into something dark and concerned. 'Dorocha took her seconds after it happened. They dragged her into the ground.'

'Does this blackmailer understand what he saw?'

'I don't believe so. He only saw Merlin hit the girl back and then with her status as Missing being public knowledge—'

'Why didn't you tell us sooner?' Gwen asked, voice soft.

Arthur looked at her with sad eyes. 'How could we?'

'How could you _not_?' Gwaine countered. ‘Merlin—'

'Gwaine,' Merlin stopped him. 'I need you to understand that not telling you is what I thought was safer. With everything else happening adding that burden would have only hurt you. All of you. You can't undo it. All knowing about it then would have done is hurt you.'

Gwaine took a breath, kept his stare unblinking, unwavering, connected, and said, 'I understand.'

‘I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry we lied to all of you,’ Merlin added, terrified that it fell on deaf ears.

'Keeping this from IA is illegal,' Kilgharrah began again, 'And you all knowing makes you complicit. I intend to erase this threat to our team, to the Met, and of the public exposure of magic. As they say, failure is not an option.'

The weight strung between them dragged down any conversation, any motion, and for a moment Merlin could swear it all stopped. Another moment in time frozen, his friends all shrouded behind confused, dark looks and an aching silence.

'I'm glad you're both okay and I'm sorry you've been going through this alone,' Gwen said, and Leon nodded. The processing created a distance between them as expected. Merlin had thought there would be shouting, hitting, calls for his immediate arrest. Worst case. After going through that fight with Arthur he knew he wouldn't have been able to take it. Relief, a distant relation of it, smoothed out the sharp pain in his chest and settled his stomach. 'You're still invited to my wedding.'

Arthur laughed. A broken, stressed laugh, but it cracked the tension enough. 'Thanks, Gwen. That means a lot.'

'This doesn't leave the room. In fact, from now on it's done. Over,' Leon said, and locked eyes with everyone in the room. When they met with Merlin's they stopped and focused. 'Accident or not, what you did—'

Merlin crossed his arms. 'I know.'

'It's our job to keep the public safe and protect ourselves where necessary, but never kill someone who attacks your partner,' Leon continued, focusing his glare on Merlin. The confusion was there, a soft light that was being eaten away by a deep frown. 'That's not what a good detective does. That's not what a good person does.'

'That's enough, Leon,' Arthur said and stepped a little in front of Merlin. The small barrier was welcome, but it wasn't anything useful. A gesture, an instinct, that left them as exposed to the pain and anger that filled up the room around them. It spilled out from everyone in varying degrees. Gwen was forgiving. Gwaine was hurt and furious but understanding. Percy and Elyan were pragmatic, understood, but equally unhappy. Merlin could see the process of a connection being weighed, measured, and cut behind Leon's stare.

Leon shifted his gaze and there was accusation, low and hurt, in his voice. 'You don't see it because you're too close. Merlin changed you. I thought it was for the better. I care about you both, but I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with Merlin dragging you into his mess.'

'Leon,' Gwaine started.

'I can't forgive murder,' he cut in. 'That's the line we're taught to never cross, as police and as good people. Merlin crossed it. There's no coming back from that. I've seen it with enough criminals before. Look at what just happened. You two actually attacked _each other_ in Scotland Yard's headquarters. How far gone are you two really? What else are you hiding from us?'

Arthur's hands curled into fists by his side. 'I understand why—‘

'No,' Leon snapped with a wide eyed, openly defeated look, 'you don't. How could you? I've been with you from the start, Arthur. We worked our way into the CID together. _Years_. I knew the kind detective you wanted to be. How you wanted to help people and save lives. Since Merlin showed up, sure we're all better investigators, but— You're standing with him after he murdered a suspect and victim in her own right. I don't know how to get past that.'

'I'm sorry,' Arthur said.

'Are you? I can't tell anymore.'

Merlin watched Arthur's shoulders drop. He could barely breathe for fear of moving and breaking the impossibly balanced tension. No one said anything. What could they say? He felt Gwaine's stare fix on him, Elyan's, Percy's, then Leon's.

'I can stand by magic, and all the fucked up things we face,' he said, the anger in his voice collapsing. 'I can't work with a murderer.'

Merlin pressed his lips together. A shiver crackled its way through his body, striking up unpleasant fire that burned beneath his skin. Burned white and cold, smoke curling up to sting behind his eyes. Leon voiced everything he felt. Everything he was true. It hurt, it made him break inside somewhere, and he enjoyed the pain of it because it was true. Real. It wasn’t a lie. It was who he was and deserved to be. It’s why he had to do better. Be better.

'You're right. Internal Affairs has launched an investigation into me,' he said. 'You're all probably involved already. My time's up.'

'Merlin, don't say that,' Gwen said.

'I'm not quitting. Not yet. I'll probably be dismissed in the next few weeks as I should be. Until then all I can ask is that we do all we can to stop and arrest Nix before then. That we find a way to handle magic crime. Once we've done that,' he trailed off. He hated the way they all looked at him. He wished this was a dream, that it wasn't real, that he could clap his hands and everything would be fine.

'I agree,' Gwaine piped up. 'There's more to this, to you, than we know. There always is. Arthur's the one who you've let behind the curtain and he's the only one for a reason. I trust you. I don't blame you for any of this. You do your best like we all do. The difference is you play on a different court and a different game. I know that if you didn't we'd all be worse off,' he said, then looked at Leon. 'I see where you're coming from and I won't try to change your mind, but we aren't detectives anymore. With magic, those undead ghost things, we— We can't think and behave like normal policemen anymore. If we do, we'll most likely die, or at least lose to the bad guys.'

'Well put,' Kilgharrah said. His voice carried an odd weight and grabbed everyone's attention. 'Regardless of your personal feelings, we are still the only Murder Team equipped and aware enough to handle Old Religion and the Dorocha. We solve the cases, work together, for the sake of the public. Then, Merlin will no longer be a part of the team.'

'What?' Arthur asked.

Kilgharrah lifted one eyebrow. 'It's the truth. Now, I want surveillance on this Nix. Leon, you Gwen and Gwaine will head it. No one ever watches him alone. Elyan and Percy, write up the interviews and clear up the pathology report for a court case.'

'How can we bring this to trial?' Leon asked.

'Manipulation,' Kilgharrah said. 'We can spin it so magic influence is replaced by skilful manipulation. It's a hard sell, but with more evidence, and a joint drugs case linked to murder and Nix, it's possible the Crown Courts will be able to make an arrest with life imprisonment. Merlin, I want you to return to the scene and check for any residual magic.'

He nodded with acknowledgment but watched Arthur. His stare was distant, unfocused, and then he walked out. He left the room entirely without a word.

'Should I?' Gwen asked, but Gwaine shook his head, and Kilgharrah said, 'Leave him be. I'm guessing he's processing whatever the fight was about. I prefer my Sergeant's clearheaded.'

'As if Merlin's clearheaded?' Leon asked.

'Stop it, will you?' Gwen snapped.

'Go do your duties,' Kilgharrah ordered and returned to his office. Merlin got out of the room before Gwaine, or Gwen, or anyone could grab him. The pressure and twisting in his stomach and chest, the heat and lump in his throat, started to break through. He couldn’t be there with them anymore. He cold barely _be_ at all.

Going home, back to Arthur’s flat, was an oppressive experience. He felt disconnected from the strangers, the touch of the bus seat, the cold and bright view from the scratched window. He barely registered the people who gave him concerned looks where the blood had dried against his skin, tight and cool. Walking into the warm flat, breathing in the familiar smells, Merlin toed off his shoes, threw off the coat and scarf and walked into the living room where he saw Arthur.

'How did you know I’d be here?' Arthur asked him, still facing forward at the black screen of the tv, sat on the edge of the sofa.

'I didn’t,' he said and walked in. 'I couldn’t stay there so I came here.'

When he stepped around the arm of the sofa he saw that Arthur’s eyes were still red. He listened to the rainfall outside as it started softly. He’d abandoned his own coat, the plain dark blue shirt tighter around his upper arms and chest. Merlin sat down next to him. His lip was no longer bleeding.

'That was rough,' Arthur breathed.

Merlin shifted closer, so their sides were pressed together, warm and connected. 'I never thought life could be this hard.’

'We never think a lot of things and they happen anyway. That’s how it works,' Arthur said and Merlin felt his muscles relax, the twisting ease, the pressure fade like it did when he stepped into a shower after training.

'I know you’re not,' Merlin said as the rain hit the window pane harder, 'but will you be okay?’

'I will be if you are.' Arthur looked at him at last. He moved his hand, turned it over palm up, and Merlin took it. They laced their fingers together, hands balanced between their knees. 'This is one of those make or break times. Either we rise up to it or we don’t and, even with what you’re asking me to do, I want to rise. I have to. Let’s be brave. For ourselves and the others.'

‘Yeah,’ Merlin said, studying the conviction in Arthur’s eyes, the overwhelming pride and comfort and love filling up his to his throat. There it met the tight, icy cord of fear, uncertainty, self-loathing, and waited. It was okay. It wasn’t. The two coexisting, hate and love, fear and comfort. Arthur’s hand in his. Rain pattered again the glass. 'Let’s be brave.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for Be Brave:  
> -In Flames by Digital Daggers  
> -Serpent of Old (featuring Ciscandra Nostalghia) by Seven Lions  
> -Hail To The Victor by Thirty Seconds to Mars  
> -June by Florence + The Machine  
> -I’d Rather Be With Them by Marika Hackman   
> -Hear Me by Imagine Dragons  
> -Icarus by Bastille  
> -The Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke  
> -Blinding by Florence + The Machine


End file.
